


RΩAR, JDM/JA, AU, NC-17 [ ROAR ]

by meus_venator



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugged Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rating: NC17, Very Dark!fic, Zombies, dark!fic, zombie!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meus_venator/pseuds/meus_venator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt, </b>given to <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://tebtosca.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://tebtosca.livejournal.com/"></a><b>tebtosca</b> then mercilessly <i>stolen back</i> (I am so not a good person):<br/>After the zombie apocalypse Jensen wakes up in the wreckage of a downed plane with only a scattered memory of how they crashed. He's in the middle of suburbia and a herd of zombies are after him. <span>JDM saves him and offers protection, but requires a 'tithe'. LOL</span></p><p>*Bonus points if JDM makes Jensen his post apoc!slave and leads him around by a leash. And Jensen fights rails it, wanting to kick zombie butt himself.</p><p>
  <b> NOTE this WIP is on HIATUS because of an unexpected accident that affected my health. Until my health improves I will be unable to continue the series. So sorry for the delay. : ( </b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. RΩAR, JDM/JA, AU, NC-17 [ ROAR ]

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** [RΩAR](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/46658.html)  
>  **Author name:**[](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/profile)[ **meus_venator**](http://meus-venator.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Beta/Editor:**[](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/profile)[ **fufaraw**](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Fandom:** RPS, AU  
>  **Genre:** zombie!fic  
>  **Pairings:** Jensen/JDM  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the story. It is intended purely for entertainment purposes only and in no way resembles or represents any real life person or persons.  
>  **Word count:** 5100 words  
>  **Warnings:** AU, Non-Con, rape, violence, zombies.
> 
>  **Prompt,** given to [](http://tebtosca.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tebtosca.livejournal.com/)**tebtosca** then mercilessly _stolen back_ (I am so not a good person):  
>  After the zombie apocalypse Jensen wakes up in the wreckage of a downed plane with only a scattered memory of how they crashed. He's in the middle of suburbia and a herd of zombies are after him. JDM saves him and offers protection, but requires a 'tithe'. LOL
> 
> *Bonus points if JDM makes Jensen his post apoc!slave and leads him around by a leash. And Jensen fights rails it, wanting to kick zombie butt himself.
> 
>  
> 
> **A/N**  
>  : Whole lota porn this chapter. But I did promise a leash! I think you get your money's worth.
> 
>  

**: : :**

**Jensen staggered up out of his seat, his head was ringing like a _sonofabitch_ , everything was a blur, his whole world listing at some random angle. He automatically reached up to touch his throbbing forehead and his fingers came away wet.  _What the hell?_**

Unsure now whether his disorientation was caused by the blow to the head, or earth’s actual gravity, Jensen took a tentative step out into the aisle. His foot slipped on something wet and squishy and he grabbed at the headrest of the closest seat, clenching tightly, glad of both the physical and moral support. He stood unsteadily for a moment, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, simply breathing in and out until the pounding in his head ratcheted down to a more bearable level.

A wet, smacking sound somewhere up ahead of him, and soft grunting snuffles had his head snapping up, his hand automatically reaching for his weapon. He stifled a groan of pain caused by both the mental anguish when he found his gun missing from its holster – _so_ not a good sign and the physical pain of the quick motion. He blinked to clear his foggy vision, exhaling raggedly when he got down to two of everything.

Weaving unsteadily on his feet, Jensen prodded at his equally unsteady memory for knowledge of what he was doing here. One minute he had been sipping coffee in his seat, perusing the latest infection numbers, the next, there was screaming. He vaguely remembered a muffled cry from the young corporal on duty up by the stateroom calling out a warning before another scream. Jensen had looked up to see a steward running down the aisle, his eyes already turned a glassy white, his mouth filled with blood and bits of dangling flesh. Several of the military personnel rows head of him had tried to physically overpower and subdue the creature without using the more traditional methods inside the pressurized cabin. But it was a losing battle as the creature kicked and bit at them, each bite creating another monster in turn. Soon the cabin was overrun and Jensen had his hands full. He cursed the presidential protocol that required him to leave his equipment in the belly of the plane. What he wouldn’t do for his ultra-light mesh mail armor right now, and his gauntlets.

It was one of the unfortunate realities of the zombie apocalypse that in the blink of an eye, your seatmate could go from rational human being to something trying to eat your face. All he knew for sure was, every instinct he had was on high alert, screaming for him find a weapon, stupid, get somewhere secure, now! He wasn’t safe here, he had to get moving, get his shit wired tight, as of five minutes ago.

In typical RΩAR fashion, it was only a matter of seconds before a growing chorus of screams and cries from all directions heralded a full outbreak. Shots were fired, and Jensen’s ears felt the pop of sudden change of cabin pressure, and he swore.

He abandoned all pretext of subduing the writhing creature currently snapping at him, and reached for his semi-automatic, putting the former air force captain down with two taps under the snapping jaw, up into the brain.

He shoved the now truly lifeless body off him in time to see three of his former comrades shuffling toward him, their eyes glassy white, moving with the awkward gait of the newly turned. Given half an hour, they’d be as lightning fast and ravenous as the rest of their brethren. The zombies of Jensen’s apocalypse weren’t the tame moaning beasties of the pre-War movies, no thanks to the RΩAR outbreak. Jensen snorted, rolling his eyes. If only. Who expected that the pursuit of eternal youth by a bunch of rich douchebags might spell the destruction of civilization? Oh. Well, maybe someone other than said douchebags, but those protests had fallen on deaf ears.

Dispassionately, he took aim at the closest to him, dropping the glassy eyed lieutenant with a single shot. He was about to take out the former general clambering over the lieutenant’s body, where it blocked the aisle, when they were all suddenly slammed against the ceiling as the plane took a spiraling nosedive.

Plastered against the wall by centrifugal, force he heard a metallic scream as one of the wings sheared off the body of the plane. A great sucking hole appeared in the far side of the cabin, pulling both living and dead indiscriminately into the void. He remembered clawed hands reaching for him as he kicking out, shooting until he was out of ammo, and then the struggle to grapple his way back into a seat and buckle himself in. He ducked on instinct as something flew through the air at him, smashing his head between his knees as the seats rattled ominously in their moorings. There was a sudden jarring impact, then he remembered nothing.

\+ + +

It was obvious that the VC-25 had crashed, but not before scooping out nearly everything alive and undead onboard. Thankfully, the President had disembarked at Cal Sector of the newly rebuilt Northern Alliance Green Zone. Jensen shook his head, groaning softly at the pain that sparked through him from the motion. He wondered what part of the Red Zone they’d landed in. Most of the former central U.S. had been given up, completely overtaken by zombies. Only the great walls surrounding the six Zones and ruthless decom practices had kept mankind from being overrun completely in the northern hemisphere.

Jensen didn’t have a clue as to how the rest of the world had fared, they were busy enough just trying to keep their own small corner from circling the bowl one last time.

His temples continued to throb, and he rubbed at them, desperate to see better. He needed to focus, the slurping, chewing sounds were only getting louder.

Forcing an exhale and a slow, controlled breath in, he fought back the dizziness and moved out into the aisle, automatically checking the bodies nearest him for weapons. Behind him, the tail of the plane was a crumpled wreck, completely blocked; he could only go forward. Everywhere, splatters of blood and gore marked the cabin walls, punctuated by brief glimpses of clouds overhead where sections of bulkhead had been torn away. So escape might be possible upward, if it came to that. Jensen filed that thought for further action.

Dangling bright yellow oxygen masks hung in the air like defeated party streamers, and already in the mid morning heat the smell of rot permeated everything. In the seat currently beside him he saw General Roche, cut in half by a random chunk of metal, his eyes wide, his mouth gaped open in surprise. Jensen stifled an urge to salute; at least he had died the real death. So far no one came back from that, so far... Jensen quickly checked the body for a handgun and came up empty.

In the rows around him, the bloody remains of what had been the Northern Alliance’s top analysts and scientists were scattered across their seats, some too ripped apart to recognize, others, the bullets in their heads a reassuring sign they wouldn’t be rising any time soon.

The slurping, sucking sounds were only a few rows ahead of him now. Unarmed, Jensen didn’t stand much of a chance, especially if there was more than one of them. His eyes narrowed in concentration, he had to have a weapon of some kind. Almost on cue, his foot came up against something. He had almost tripped over an AK-47, nearly indistinguishable amid the gore that coated the aisle floor.

Snatching up the weapon, Jensen automatically checked for ammo, and grinned triumphantly. He carefully wiped off the worst of the blood and entrails and checked to see if it was still fire-ready. Satisfied it wouldn’t blow his hand off and with a working firearm in his hands once again, Jensen expelled a shaky breath. He was coming up to the center of the plane, where the rows of seating ended and a series of conference rooms and private quarters for the president and aides were located. He could see the break in the seating where the door to the first room was located. That last row of seats was where the sounds were coming from. The dividing wall was riddled with a spray of bullet holes running across its length; more than one battle had been fought here.

Using his 6’1 to advantage, Jensen carefully peered over the seats to find three zombies snacking down on the former Director of the Interior. Shiny trails of intestines were everywhere as the zombies pulled and tore at the body. He raised his weapon, steadying himself, squinting until there were only one of each Zeke crouched in the aisle. These changed were older now, would move faster. The soft click of the safety had all three heads turning toward him instantly. Before they could lunge toward him the head of one exploded in a spray of blood and brains. Jensen looked up startled, he hadn’t pulled the trigger, but the zombies had already turned and were launching themselves at a tall figure who now stood in the doorway to the conference room.

Dressed completely in black armor, he looked like something out of one of the pre-War Mad Max movies Jensen had loved as a teenager. Clinically, Jensen noted the silencer at the end of the long barrel of the man’s gun, now pointed at the remaining zombies. His face twisted, an actual sneer on his lips as he pulled a stogie from between them. “Looks like you might be needing a little rescuing, Green Eyes.”

There was the near-silent soft pop of the man’s firearm, and the two zombies fell to the ground like sacks of wet cement, and lay twitching.

Hackles rising at the man’s tone, Jensen ruthlessly shoved them down; ego had no place in the red zone. Edging his way past the bodies, he strode forward. “Can’t say I couldn’t have handled it on my own, but the help was appreciated. Where did you come from?”

“Just passing through, saw the crash and came to scavenge what I could. Saving your pretty ass was just a fringe benefit.” The man blew out a cloud of smoke and stretched out his free hand to Jensen as he clamped the cigar back between his teeth. “Jeffrey Dean Morgan, but my friends call me JDM. I was heading to the crew area to look for grub when I heard them.”

 

Jensen wiped his hand off on the wall before extending it. He took that brief opportunity to look the man up and down. A bit taller and broader than himself, with grizzled salt and pepper beard and hair, and a handsome face, JDM had a firm grip, the brief shake left Jensen’s hand tingling. Jensen chalked it up to the head injury.

“It’s Ackles, Captain Ackles, ZTM.”

“Hmm.” Morgan hummed noncommittally. “So you’re what passes for a marine these days, huh?” JDM’s gaze traveled appreciatively over him. “Whatever you say, Green Eyes, I could find better uses for you myself.” The man’s lips curled in a tight smile.

Before Jensen had a chance to speak up he continued, “Hey, you hungry? You look a bit the worse for wear and I could sure use a solid. I thought I smelt food in the galley before I got sidetracked with this. Come on, let’s see what we can dig up.”

Shrugging off his irritation, Jensen allowed Morgan to take point as they made their way through the cabin. Jensen saw where whole pieces of the plane had been shorn away during the crash. He shivered; how the hell had he managed to make it out of this in one piece?

Morgan took out four more zombies on the way, motioning Jensen not to shoot, pointing at his silencer equipped gun. “I’ll handle this. No need to ring the dinner bell if we don’t have to, Green Eyes.”

Jensen’s lips tightened at the nickname and the man simply chuckled; a dark whisky-soaked sound that sent a wave of heat directly to Jensen’s groin. He adjusted his black pants circumspectly. The man only licked his lips appreciatively and rubbed at his salt and pepper beard.

“Come on gorgeous, we ain’t got all day.”

Jensen’s eyes narrowed with instant dislike when he saw the knowing glint in JDM’s eyes. Exhaling an angry breath and forcing himself to count to ten Jensen nodded curtly and continued his sweep for Zeke.

The cockpit was gone, torn away completely, and the battered and crushed crew galley faced open air on both sides. Grunting and cursing with effort, Morgan was able to jimmy open one of the lockers holding the first class meal carts to find meals still sitting pristine in their pre-warmed holders. Jensen’s mouth salivated at the smell, and Morgan smirked knowingly.

While Jensen stood watch, Morgan filled his knapsack with cans of pop and bottles of water. The tinkle of glass had Jensen glancing back in time to see Morgan tossing dozens of small liquor bottles into his bag. “For medicinal purposes,” Morgan grinned, hoisting the bulging army issue bag onto his back. Morgan rolled the metal cart forward into the aisle and nodded for Jensen to take lead.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s find us somewhere more romantic to continue this.”

Jensen felt his spine stiffen in reaction, but saw the wisdom of the man’s suggestion, it was afternoon already and Jensen’s head was still not at optimal capacity. Dark would come all too quickly, and they didn’t want to be out in the open when night fell. “In case there’s anything left of them, I suggest we hole up in one of the staterooms for the night. We can get a good sleep, and then an early start in the morning. I know I want to inspect the belly of the plane and see if I can reclaim my gear.” Jensen didn’t know how far he was from the Cal Green Zone, but he couldn’t wait to ditch his unwelcome rescuer. Depending on where they were, getting his kit back could mean the difference between life and death.

“Sounds like a plan, and I could do with a good sleep.” Morgan leered at Jensen, “You never know, you might even get lucky tonight, Green Eyes.”

Jensen’s gritted his teeth and moved forward, systematically checking the fallen military personnel for extra weapons or ammo as they moved back through the deserted plane. Behind him, he could almost feel Morgan’s grin as he snow-plowed the cart through the worst of the mess.

The first stateroom they opened had a huge hole open to the sky, so they moved on. In the second, two zombie stewardesses rushed them. Morgan cut down one of them with his silencer, while Jensen stabbed the other in the head with a knife he’d picked up from a fallen marine.

“Hmm beautiful and dangerous. Just how I like em.” Morgan murmured, too close to Jensen’s ear, his large hand clasped on Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen flinched back out of reach.

“Hey, whoa, take it easy Green Eyes, not gonna hurt you.” Morgan raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture and smirked. “Or not at least in a way you wouldn't like, I have more imagination that that.” Up close, Jensen could see the laugh wrinkles at the corners of Morgan’s eyes, the deep brown irises failing to mask a sardonic twinkle.

“Don’t touch me,” Jensen bit out, hating that he sounded like a Victorian virgin, and he shoved past Morgan into the room. In spite of his pique, Jensen could feel blood rushing to his cock. Somehow, as insulting as Morgan was, he managed to push Jensen’s buttons like no one had in years. _Perfect. Great time to get horny, Ackles!_

Jensen inspected the stateroom, it was the President’s bedroom, a large king-sized bed dominated the middle of the room, a small table and two comfortable chairs, and a small but luxuriously appointed bathroom to one side. With no obvious damage to the plane's hull in this area, it didn’t get much better than this outside the Green Zone: the walls and doors were bulletproof, and secured on the inside. It was the perfect place to hole up. Rooms lined up along the plane's length: the admin office door that opened onto the main cabin was damaged, but Jensen secured it as well as he could, then secured the connecting door to the conference room. He checked and secured the conference room door that opened to the cabin, and then the door that opened into the bedroom, humming in approval. Having multiple barriers for Zeke to puzzle out – or chew through, more likely – was reassuring.

He turned to Morgan, arched a brow, snarked back, “Looks like we got ourselves a room for the night.” At the surprised look on Morgan’s face, Jensen had to push down the feeling of glee that shot through him. _What was he all of a sudden, six?_

They carried the two bodies out of the room and pushed the cart inside, locking the door behind them. Morgan holstered his weapon and shrugged off his knapsack, and started to rummage around in the cart. He pulled out two covered trays and plopped down in one of the chairs beside the table with one of them, putting his feet up on the end of the bed letting out a long sigh.

“I could eat the ass end out of a alligator, I’m so hungry. And K-rations just don’t cut it after a while, you know?” Morgan groaned as he took the first bite of his meal.

Jensen’s mouth tightened in distaste as Morgan wolfed down his food. The small appreciative moans and smacking sounds did something odd to Jensen’s gut. He set his AK47 down by the door and went into the small bathroom to check the water pressure. It was still running, probably hooked up by a separate secure system, explicitly for the President, and it remained intact here in the more protected center of the plane.

He washed his face, cleaning the blood from his face and hands, and stood leaning against the small vanity staring at himself in the mirror. It had been a long time since anyone had called him beautiful or pretty, noticed or mentioned his green eyes. A long time since he’d felt a spark for another man like this.

The face that stared back at him was more handsome than pretty, now. Gone were the sultry good looks he’d been cursed with as a youth. His time in the marines, and maturity, not to mention the hardships endured as a result of RΩAR, had honed his face to a rawboned handsomeness. And if his lips were still a bit plush by traditional standards, and his moss green eyes a bit too wide, his practiced squint and glare took care of the rest. He must be more rattled by the plane crash than he thought to let Morgan get to him this easily. He scrubbed dry on a thick towel monogrammed with the Presidential seal, put on his best game face, and went out to join the man for supper.

“Looks like the water is on battery, so we should each be able to take a shower and stock up on fresh water for travel before we leave. Privilege of being President, I guess.”

Morgan nodded, mouth full of food. “Good news to these old ears. I’ve got Zeke ground into places I don’t want to think about. And if we share, there'll be more water to go around.” Morgan licked his lips and stared deliberately at Jensen’s crotch.

“Are you seriously always such a fucking horndog?” Jensen asked reasonably, allowing his irritation to show in his tone. And just for spite, he continued, “I don’t swing that way man, cut it the hell out.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rose skeptically and he laughed. “All right Green Eyes, my bad. I don’t want you to get your panties in a bunch. Hey, check it out – steak!”

Morgan gestured toward the stack of covered trays on the trolley. Morgan was enthusiastically sawing at his second T-bone like it was the last one on earth. For all Jensen knew, maybe it was.

“Was the President on board?” Morgan cocked his chin toward the door over mouthfuls of steak, “Is he out there somewhere?”

“No, fortunately, we’d just dropped him off in the Green Zone.”

Morgan nodded, grabbing up a beer, glass still dripping with condensation, and swallowed the last of it down appreciatively. Jensen glanced around, wondering where that had come from. He didn’t remember Morgan picking up beer in the galley. Seeing Jensen’s quizzical expression Morgan smirked and stood up, going over to a little bar fridge Jensen hadn’t noticed before along the wall. He stooped and pulled out a couple of longnecks, passing one to Jensen where he still stood in the middle of the room. Morgan twisted off the cap and took another long swallow, wiping his hand across his lips. He stared at Jensen, and a slow, sly smile blossomed on his face. “Drink up boy, before it gets warm.”

Ignoring Morgan for the moment, Jensen slid a dinner tray out of the cart and lifted the lid, inhaling the rich smell of Grade A beef. His stomach twisted with hunger. He sat down in the chair opposite Morgan, cracking open his bottle of beer and finally looking up to meet Morgan's expectant gaze. Realizing he couldn’t afford to stay mad at his fellow survivor, that they’d have to depend on each other for survival for the foreseeable future, Jensen shrugged away his pique and tapped his bottle companionably against the other man's. “Cheers.”

 

Morgan slouched back in his chair and resumed eating. “So, Zombie Tactical Marine, huh? What brings you out this way?” He asked, between mouthfuls.

Jensen gave him a hard look, and Morgan shrugged. “Hey, we’re stuck in here till morning. You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. Special ops, Orange Zone.” Morgan took another mouthful of steak, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste. Jensen swallowed, watching Morgan eat with such gusto, such – passion, and nodded. He had to admit, he was somewhat relieved that at least he wasn’t locked into a small room with a madman roaming the red Zone for no reason. Special ops usually had a pretty good reason behind everything they did, you just didn’t want to get in their way when they were doing it. But Special Ops also ran in pairs. Jensen’s brow furrowed.

Jensen tried to dig a little. “Orange Zone, that’s up in Canada. Long way from Green Zone, the surf, the sand," Jensen laughed. "Same zombies though.” It had been a long time since anyone surfed in California, Cal sector.

Not sure how best to broach the subject Jensen tipped his head back and let the cool, smooth beer flow down his throat. God, it tasted good, better than the stuff his Z squad usually had access to. He set the bottle down, and turned to find Morgan watching him intently, hungrily. Jensen blinked, and then the look was gone, replaced by mild interest, Morgan leaned back casually, “So, your mission?”

“I had a temporary duty to guard the President, but this leg we were heading to Blue Zone with a boatload of tactical and some of our best scientists. Zeke’s been collecting around the northern walls of Austin. The eggheads wanted to study them, my team simply wanted to exterminate them. It’s all hands on deck to stop a mob surge, not sure the geeks really got that. We’ve seen Zeke collect and scale even our highest walls for no particular rhyme or reason, so with thousands of them all converging there, the area chief didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Any clue as to what caused the crash?” Morgan took another pull from his beer.

“Not really. I woke up just before you arrived on the scene. I don’t know what happened here. Something must have gotten onboard somehow. Maybe it’s the longer incubation period they’ve been predicting. Do you know where we are?”

“We’re a good couple thousand klicks from Green Zone. Yellow is closer now, I was waiting out a herd that’s taken days to clear through. Looks like you guys were right to be worried about Blue Zone, they were heading south. I’d been stalled so long I was starting to run low on supplies. The plane going down was actually a break for me, I’d been holed up in a tree. And let me tell you, shitting out of a tree ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, even when it hits Zeke.” Jeff barked a laugh, and raised his beer. “First good meal in days.” Morgan took a swift swig, and ruefully scrubbed at the stubble covering his face.

“Ah, that didn’t quite come out right. I’m sorry. I’m sure you lost good men here. I’m an insensitive prick. My momma always told me so, anyway.”

“I did.” Jensen nodded, looking away briefly. It wasn’t Morgan’s fault his friends were puppy chow for zombies or walking meat suits, just a fact of life these days. More casualties to the RΩAR. He’d just lost so many friends over the years.

“Well let’s drink to them. Fortunately, the President knows how to stock a beer fridge. To good friends lost.”

Jensen scrubbed at his eyes that were suspiciously damp, and tapped his beer against Morgan’s. “Amen to that. To good friends.”

Several beers and a great steak later, Jensen was flying high, unusually high, a part of his brain dimly realized. As a rule, Jensen wasn’t affected this strongly by a couple of beers. Maybe it was the head injury? It would be just his luck to have a damned concussion. He knew better than to drink with a concussion. This felt different than the dizziness he’d experienced earlier though, and a slight paralysis was taking over his limbs. Alarm bells started to go off in his mind: Morgan had done all the serving.

“Come on, big boy, time to get you on the bed.” Morgan was suddenly beside him, pulling the beer bottle from his nerveless hands, hefting him up out of his chair, guiding him, staggering, to the bed.

Jensen started to shake his head, no, no, no.

“What tttha fuuck didyoudo?” Jensen slurred suspiciously as Morgan heaved him onto the mattress. Jensen bounced on the soft surface and tried to resist the urge to sigh at feeling all that memory foam cradling his body. As the room spun he temporarily forgot his reluctance and buried his head in the soft as sin pillows, and moaned. Then his eyes snapped open as he felt Morgan’s hand on his ass, patting it appreciatively.

Morgan chuckled, “Nothing that will hurt you Green Eyes, just a little something to make you a bit ‘friendlier’.”

“Whyyy thha hell woulddyou do thatttforrr?” Jensen speech was slurred, and his body didn’t seem to want to respond.

“Well sweetheart, let’s just say I been out here a long time, and a man has certain... needs.”

“Donn’t sswing that way, yyouu fuccker.” Jensen mumbled, while Morgan rolled Jensen over so he was lying on his back. Morgan grinned down at him and started stripping Jensen’s clothes, peeling off his white dress shirt with alacrity, then he was pulling at Jensen’s belt, finally tugging off his dress slacks, leaving Jensen in only his boxers. Jensen tried to lurch up, but his arms flailed weakly at his sides, unresponsive as the rest of his body.

Morgan loomed over the bed, humming appreciatively. His hand ran a line down Jensen’s chest. “Mmm, freckles. Love your spots, boy. Wanna lick each and every one of them.” Morgan leaned down and started to kiss Jensen’s neck, licking and nibbling a trail down his chest to the flat disk of his nipple. Jensen’s skin blossomed with heat everywhere Morgan touched and he outright whined when Morgan’s lips latched onto Jensen’s nipple and sucked. It was like lightning traveled from his chest to his groin, and he tried to arch up against Morgan’s body.

Jensen could feel Morgan lips twitch into a smile and then he was sucking at Jensen’s other nipple while his large warm palm kneaded at the bulge in Jensen’s boxers.

Abandoning Jensen’s nipple for the moment, Morgan swiftly spread Jensen’s legs and knelt between them reverently. Between half-closed eyelids, Jensen watched as Morgan reached out to palm Jensen’s growing erection, rubbing the soft cotton against his sensitive flesh. Jensen bit his lip and tossed his head deeper into the pillows, moaning.

“Sweetheart, if that’s how you show how you don’t swing that way, I can’t wait to see when you really like something.”

“Donnn’t think you’rssoo hot, 'saa druggggs you pumppped me fuuulllof.”

“Hate to tell you Green Eyes, but this is all on you. I only gave you a mild sedative. Been a while has it?” Morgan’s gruff chuckle vibrated against the inside of Jensen’s leg as the man licked a line up his sensitive inner thigh.

“Leave meee tha fuccck alllonnnne. Cann’t yougett a date onnyuurrrown? S’aat wwhhaatt happened tooo your old parrtneerr you ffucckingg ruufieed himm oonee too manny timesss?” Jensen tried to buck his hips, but all he ended up doing was rubbing his dick against Morgan’s shoulder as the man continued to lick and kiss Jensen’s body.

Jensen felt hot, wet lips latch onto his nipple again, and a soft cry tore from his lips. “Ahhhhh.”

“Shut up, kid. You don’t know anything about my old partner,” Morgan growled menacingly. “You’re just a handy substitute. Now that’s right pretty, sing for me.” The bristles on Morgan’s beard scraped gently across the sensitive, heated skin of his chest and Jensen couldn’t help the shiver of desire that trembled through him.

Morgan rocked his hips against Jensen’s and beneath the cloth, Jensen could feel the man’s own rock hard dick.

Jensen’s eyes fluttered open when he felt dry soft lips brush up against his own. Jensen hadn’t know they had closed, his body humming with desire. He wished his hands would move, he wanted to run them over Morgan’s hard, scarred flesh, but all he could do was lie there like a rag doll.

“Open for me, baby boy. Let me in.” Morgan’s voice was a soft growl against Jensen’s mouth, and Jensen's lips fell open on a sigh. Morgan’s tongue lapped over his and then thrust inside. Jensen gasped, swallowing and sucking as Morgan thrust his tongue over and over inside him, fucking his mouth as surely as he seemed intent on fucking his body. Morgan’s breath was sour, sweetened only by the lingering taste of beer. All the while, his hips ground against Jensen’s aching cock. Another thrust and Jensen’s vision whited out as he came in a rush, hot slick filling his shorts like a teenage boy. Morgan stilled the movement of his hips as Jensen's orgasm ripped through him, and a high keening sound poured over his lips.

“Nuh-unh boy, not without permission.” Jeff’s voice snarled in his ear, his beard rough against the tender skin of Jensen’s face. “And you were doing so well until now.” Morgan knelt back, yanking on Jensen’s boxers, tugging them down and off to reveal his dick in its nest of coppery curls, jizz-covered, shiny, and still half-hard. Morgan tutted, using the underwear to wipe off most of the come. “Did you hear me give you permission to come?” Morgan snapped out the question in a clipped military fashion.

Jensen’s eyelids slid open as Morgan’s tone of command penetrated his orgasmic high. “Nooo sirrr.” Jensen answered automatically.

“That’s master to you, Green Eyes. Say it.”

Morgan grasped Jensen’s dick and squeezed, hard, Jensen moaned in pain. His hands struggled to rise and protect his organ from such abuse.

“Fuck youuuu,” Jensen managed to wheeze out.

“Try again, son.” Morgan’s hand tightened incrementally around Jensen’s now flaccid dick.

Jensen screamed and spit, but his body just lay there. He was helpless, he couldn’t do a thing to protect himself and he knew Morgan could and would keep this up until he got what he wanted, whatever that was. Dazed he realized he was left with only one option.

“Noooo, masssterrr.” Jensen bit out.

“Then you don’t come until I tell you to come, boy. You got that?“

Jensen nodded, bobbing his head as fast as his numb muscles would allow.

“Now open those plush lips for me, boy. I got something for you.”

The sharp scent of unwashed male filled Jensen's nose and he felt the broad head of Morgan’s dick rubbing across his lips, the bitter, slightly salty taste of precome was smearing over them. Impatient, Morgan tapped his red and rock-hard cock against Jensen’s cheek.

“Did I not just give you an order? Do you want to find out what happens when you don’t obey me, boy? Open up.”

Jensen kept his lips pressed together rebelliously, even if a small part of him had his mouth watering to taste Morgan’s glistening cock. It was the principal of the thing. He wasn’t this man’s toy. Fuck this.

Morgan’s hand snaked out and cupped Jensen’s jaw forcefully, squeezing painfully just inside the hinge. Jensen fought as long as he could, but finally the pain won out and his mouth dropped open. Morgan hooked a thumb inside his mouth, forcing it open and Jensen closed his eyes as Morgan fed his wide, cut cock into his mouth. Jensen gagged a little as he pushed it in till it hit the back of Jensen’s throat.

“Hold on boy, been dying to see those lips wrapped around me since I first laid eyes on you.” Morgan moaned, hunching over Jensen in the darkening cabin. Only a small table lamp in the room gave Jensen glimpses of Morgan kneeling over him. The sturdy canvas of Morgan’s fatigues rubbed against Jensen’s jaw, the man still fully clothed as he labored over Jensen’s now completely naked body.

Morgan thrust deeper and deeper, pausing at times while Jensen’s throat rippled helplessly, desperate for breath as he swallowed around Morgan's cock. Jensen could hear Morgan’s breath punch out of him at the sensation, then he would move again, pounding in and out of Jensen's throat.

Jensen closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing when he could, and not thinking at all when Morgan was pressed so deep into him that all Jensen could feel was the wiry hairs of his crotch and the heat and stench off his unwashed body. Jensen felt his gorge rising and desperately tried to swallow Morgan down, hoping to push him over the edge, finish him off quickly, but Morgan squeezed the base of his dick before he could come, deep down Jensen’s throat and reluctantly withdrew.

Jensen coughed and choked as Morgan pulled out completely. He felt the rough tap of Morgan’s hand on his cheek and opened his eyes. “Good job baby, that mouth of yours is so sweet, but I want something else for our first time together.”

Jensen wanted to scream. First time? This would be his last time once the sedative wore off. Maybe lights out completely for Morgan. Jensen felt a growl of rage growing in his chest.

Still holding his cock and groaning and laughing at the same time, Morgan shuffled down Jensen’s body till he came to rest between his legs again.

“I bet headstrong and cocky as you are, it’s been a while, am I right?” Morgan chatted companionably as he bent backward, reaching awkwardly to the table and his discarded meal to grab up the small plastic cup of salad oil that had come with the steak and salad.

Gripping the white plastic cup in his hand triumphantly, he grinned at Jensen. “Got just what we need to make this good, baby.” He dipped his fingers in the oil, drizzling the rest onto his own cock.

“Now, first we gotta get you in that 'don’t swing that way' mood, then we gotta open you up, nice and slow, right Green Eyes?” Morgan reached down, tugging Jensen’s dick a few times between his oiled fingers until the treacherous organ began to rise, then his fingers followed a trail downward, squeezing Jensen’s balls gently in his big warm hand before finally stopping to rub at Jensen’s hole.

Jensen groaned and clenched as a thick, warm finger gently circled his entrance. Morgan’s other hand had come to rest, fingers splayed wide, on Jensen’s belly.

“That’s it baby, relax, gonna make you feel so good.” Morgan murmured, his hand rubbing unconsciously across Jensen’s stomach. Jensen's thighs quivered in dread as Morgan’s finger pushed gently inside him and disappeared past the knuckle. “There, that was easy,” Morgan sing-songed as his finger started to plunge in and out of Jensen.

Soon two fingers were eased inside him, and Morgan’s thumb on his belly rubbed soothing circles. By the third finger Jensen was starting to moan in earnest. Morgan wiggled the digits around, searching, and Jensen arched off the bed, movement still possible with the right motivation it seemed, as Morgan brushed against his prostate. “BINGO! That’s it, sweetheart,” Morgan crooned. And Jensen rolled his head back and forth on the pillow as he bit his lip against the rising sensation. Morgan’s hand on his belly slid down and started to tug Jensen’s fattening cock.

Jensen quivered at the feeling. It had been a long time since he’d had a male lover, longer still since anyone had prepped him with such careful patience. Even as he hated the man for doing it, he had to admit Morgan knew his way around a male body.

Jensen moaned, “Noooo, stop.” The sensations kept building, tormenting him, and Morgan kept brushing his finger randomly across Jensen’s prostate, teasing him as the thick digits stretched the tight muscle of his entrance.

Then the long fingers withdrew, and were replaced by the smooth velvety nudge of Morgan’s cock at his entrance as Morgan leaned over him. Morgan pushed past the muscular ring, and in one smooth motion thrust his full length inside. Morgan’s balls slapped the back of Jensen’s ass as he came to a stop buried to the hilt in Jensen’s heat.

It punched a breath out of Jensen, the sudden sensation of being filled so completely, but there was no pain. Morgan hovered over him, his arms bracketing Jensen’s head, the soft huff of his breath hitting Jensen’s face. “Open your eyes sweetheart, I want to see you come undone.” And Jensen was helpless but to obey, staring up into Morgan’s brown-gold eyes, hypnotized by the look of hunger on Morgan’s face. He had never seen that look on a lover’s face before.

Then Morgan sat up and began to thrust into him. Pounding into Jensen, so hard he swore he could feel Morgan’s dick in his throat. He gasped as Morgan nailed his prostate on a regular basis, his own cock rising between them, tickled by the hairs on Morgan’s belly. Morgan looked down chuckling, “Yeah, sure is a good thing you don’t swing that way, sweetheart.”

One of Morgan’s hands reached down and grasped Jensen’s dick, stripping it in time with the man’s thrusts.

“Got something you wanna ask me, boy?” Morgan rumbled.

Jensen’s mind was a blank, then the tight squeeze on his penis reminded him. He bit down on his lip, glaring at Morgan. He wouldn’t be partner to his own rape.

Morgan stared down at him patiently, slowing to a mere rocking motion that was surprisingly tender. It was Jensen’s undoing, he felt a sudden yearning to let go and feel what it would be like to come for this man.

Above him Morgan eased in and out of him, completely unperturbed by Jensen’s stubbornness. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. We can do this the hard way or we can do this the easy way, but either way you're getting fucked. There’s no doubt, But if you want you can have some pleasure out of it. Or not. Your call.” Morgan rubbed his thumb over Jensen’s piss slit, digging his thumb in painfully.

“It ain’t nothing on me. Boy,” Morgan twisted Jensen’s dick, and the confusing mix of pleasure and pain was messing with Jensen’s brain. With tears pricking at the corners of his eyes Jensen made his decision.

“Neeed to ccome, gonna comme, ppllease.” Jensen huffed out, his cheeks pinkening in embarrassment.

“That ain’t how you address me.” Morgan nipped at Jensen’s lips, plunging his tongue inside him once more in a parody of how his cock was plunging inside his hole, his hand continuing to squeeze mercilessly on Jensen’s softening dick. When he released Jensen’s lips, Jensen whined, “Masster, please master.”

Morgan hummed in approval, and like magic his hands started to work Jensen’s flesh, reawakening his desire. Soon enough Jensen was panting and frantic, mumbling and moaning. “Plleasse, gonna… ”

Morgan’s eyes looked almost sad as he stared down at Jensen and with a final brief twist of Jensen’s nipple he ordered. “Then come for me Green Eyes, come for me.”

And sparks were sizzling up Jensen’s spine, short-circuiting his brain. He bucked up once, and then he was coming all over Morgan’s hand and his belly. He clenched down on Morgan’s cock inside him and could feel an answering twitch as Morgan came, a warm liquid sensation deep inside him.

Morgan collapsed down onto Jensen, with a huff. His solid weight blanketing him with as he buried his head in the joint of Jensen’s neck and shoulder. He lay there a while on top of Jensen. Jensen tried not to think about what had just happened. Tried not to think of how he had just begged for his own defilement. But the feel of the cloth of Morgan’s fatigues rough against Jensen’s naked skin kept reminding him of how vulnerable he was.

Finally Morgan pushed himself up on his elbows with a soft groan and eased his softening dick out of Jensen, rolling over beside him on the bed.

“Damn, what I wouldn’t do for a smoke right about now.” Morgan murmured.

Jensen tipped his head to look at the man, salt and pepper beard and hair, sweat soaked, his eyes closed in relaxation. Maybe once the man was asleep Jensen could take the bastard out. He thought a bit of feeling was coming back to his hands. Just a bit more time and…

As if reading his mind Morgan’s eyes snapped open and he lurched to sitting. Digging in his pockets, he produced two zip ties and Jensen groaned in defeat. The wary bastard. Morgan rolled Jensen over on to his belly and secured his hands behind his back with one tie and his ankles together with the other. Leaving him on his belly, Morgan rose and went to the washroom. Jensen could hear the splash as a stream of piss hit the water in the flush and then the sound of water running before a warm weight dropped down beside him on the bed.

Jensen felt himself tugged to his side and pulled back up against Morgan’s chest as the older man spooned up behind him. Morgan’s hand reached forward carefully, cleaning Jensen with a warm cloth. Then he ran his hands up and down Jensen’s body possessively, to finally come to rest across his chest.

“Good boy.” Morgan’s voice was a sleepy rumble in his ear. “Exactly what the mission called for. But don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you as long as you obey. And you know how to obey, don’t you Green Eyes?” Morgan’s fingers twisted on Jensen’s nipple again cruelly and Jensen let out a surprised cry before nodding cautiously. Morgan continued to twist on the piece of flesh until Jensen realized a verbal response was needed. “Yesss sirrr. Imean yesss massster.”

“Very good. Now tomorrow we’ll be heading out early, so get lots of rest, you’re going to be helping me.”

Morgan pulled Jensen in tighter against his body and Jensen shivered as the night cooled, grateful for the warmth coming off Morgan’s body.

As the soft sound of Morgan’s snores filled Jensen’s ears he could only lay there, thinking. What the hell could Morgan want with him? The drug slowly left his system and he worked carefully trying to free himself of the zip tie holding his hands, but to no effect. Finally huffing out a soft breath Jensen allowed himself to relax into Morgan’s warm body.

Morgan purred quietly in his ear, “Won’t do you no good son, you’re mine now, for good.”

Jensen bit back the snarl that threatened. Morgan could go fuck himself as far as Jensen was concerned. He pulled at the zip ties. With no chance of escaping Morgan at the moment if Morgan wanted a hole, that was all he was going to get, Jensen had put up with worse torture, but he wasn’t going to cooperate any further than he had to and when he saw his opening Morgan was going to pay.

 

: : :

Comments Always Appreciated ^^  

 

 


	2. RΩAR, JDM/JA, AU, NC-17 [ ROAR ]

 

: : :

Jensen awoke to a sharp sting in his hip and the quiet hiss of a medgun. He flinched, rushing to open his eyes and orient himself. The jolting movement set shards of agony through his skull and he groaned, snapping his eyes closed again. In a vague attempt to mitigate the pain, he tried to curl his body in as small a ball as possible, his head burrowed into the softness of the pillow beneath his cheek and his eyes squeezed tighter as he waited for the sensation to ease.

A small part of him hoped that yesterday was all simply a bad dream, that when the world stopped spinning and he was able to open his eyes again, he would be back home in the ZED squad barracks, with good natured laughter and squabbling surrounding him. Instead he felt Morgan’s hands tugging at his neck, a tight band being strapped around his throat and snugged up uncomfortably close to his Adam’s apple.

Jensen gasped and started to struggle against the choking sensation. Still clawing his way out of sleep he didn’t have the wherewithal to muster outrage, or anger, only an instinctual snarl against the restriction. Morgan’s fist digging swiftly into his short hair, jerked him back roughly, his voice an impatient rumble in his ears.

“Hold still boy, quit strugglin’ ‘less you want me to accidentally choke you to death.”

Morgan fiddled as the strap against Jensen’s windpipe continued to tighten, then a cold slug of what felt like metal fell against the nape of his neck.

Jensen felt the rough pads of two fingers press between whatever was choking him and his throat, giving him enough room between that the thing – and Jensen suspected he knew what it fucking was – that Morgan had put on him, so that it only caught when he swallowed. Able to breathe once more, his level of panic ratcheted down a notch, and he rolled his head experimentally against the pillow. The thing around his throat turned out to be exactly what he thought it was, a fucking collar. Jensen growled in protest, and then froze in shock as his Adam’s apple pressed up against the cold plastic.

The snick of Morgan’s knife came too close to Jensen’s ear and this time he couldn’t help but jerk away. Morgan had threaded something on the tie before he had pulled the wider than normal, thick zip tie around his throat closed. It felt like a loop, or a D-link. Jensen shuddered.

He lay there in the stunning realization that every movement, every swallow would be a constant reminder of the collar's presence. Morgan hummed in satisfaction and snapped something onto the D-link and tugged experimentally. Jensen barely stopped himself from flinching again as he realized Morgan was tugging on a leash now connected to the collar

“Too bad they don’t come in green, would look even prettier on you.” Morgan murmured as he kissed the back of Jensen’ s neck.

“Fuck you.” Jensen ground out, scrambling to get his wits about him.

Morgan coiled the leash in his hand tighter, winding the extra cord around his hand and yanking Jensen’s head up off the bed.

“You forgetting your training already boy?” Morgan cooed.

Jensen glared at him. “That would be fuck you sir.”

“Hmm, well, we’ll get you there. Now come on, we gotta get ourselves cleaned up and hit the road. Once the shot activates it’s optimal for eight hours and we got a lot of ground to cover in that time.” Morgan’s knife snicked out again and Jensen's ankles sprang free, the zip tie holding them together cut. His feet prickled with pins and needles as he moved them experimentally across the sheets.

Grabbing the wide strap of Jensen’s collar Morgan bullied him onto his feet. He was across the room before he realized it, half choking and stumbling as the thick ring of sharp plastic cut up into his jaw.

His hands were still zip-tied behind his back and the room was still doing a good impression of a merry-go-round. Jensen could do nothing as he was frog-marched into the bathroom. One of Morgan’s hands had a death grip on his collar, the other on his arm, steering him. Stopping at the shower, Morgan yanked Jensen back by the collar so his back was pressed up against Morgan’s chest, while the man fiddled with the water settings. Finally satisfied with the temperature, he shoved Jensen ungently into the stall. Before Jensen could even think of shoving back, Morgan had snapped a hold tie at the other end of the leash around the support bar along the wall effectively tethering Jensen under the soft spray while Morgan stepped back outside. “You gotta piss, do it now. If you gotta shit, speak up and I’ll take you over to the flush. Beats copping a squat later on in the woods.” Morgan watched for an answer. When Jensen only shook his head in the negative he turned away.

Fuming with rage and humiliation, Jensen stood under the warm jets and with a moan of relief let his full-to-bursting bladder empty. As he pissed, he contemplated his next move while he watched Morgan strip and set a few items, including a fully loaded Beretta, on the bathroom counter. For an old man, Morgan was in pretty good shape, the tinge of grey threading through his beard and hair continued on his chest and groin. Late forties if Jensen had to guess, but well cared for, his body still toned and hard and covered with more than its fair share of war souvenirs.

He hadn’t been joking about the ground-in Zeke, either, layers of grime covering the man’s naked body. He must have been out in the Red zone a long time for such an accumulation. Jensen grimaced; had he gone AWOL, or was he still under orders – and if so, what kind? And what the hell had been in that shot he’d given him? Jensen squinted as the room started to fog, grinding his wrists helplessly against the zip tie.

Morgan tugged on his beard thoughtfully before tossing his black fatigues over one of the railings in the shower. He groaned as he stepped under the spray. The water hit his skin and he tipped his head upward to let the soothing warmth rush over him. The pressure was unexpectedly awesome, and Morgan’s eyelids reflexively fluttered closed beneath the decadent onslaught.

Jensen took his shot.

In the tight confines of the shower stall, Jensen kicked out and down at the back of Morgan’s knee, but the wily vet must have been ready for him, because he moved a moment before Jensen’s foot could connect properly, to cripple him and drive him to the shower floor. Instead the blow only glanced off his leg, leaving Jensen angled awkwardly as the older man swung, giving Jensen a roundhouse smash to the face which drove his head against the shower wall, momentarily stunning him. Morgan pressed in, shoving his body tight against Jensen’s, pinning him to the wall, the rough bristles of his beard dragging across the sensitive skin of Jensen’s cheek.

“That the best you got, boy? Cause if that’s it, you ain’t got squat.” Morgan purred, tugging on the leash over the hold bar so that it yanked Jensen down, bent over, face pressed against the grab bar. Jensen's head spun madly, and while he struggled to stay conscious and keep standing, Morgan re-secured the leash, leaving Jensen hunched over. Barely breathing heavy from their encounter, Morgan casually leaned out from the shower and grabbed up another ziptie he’d left handy on the counter. Probably anticipating something just like this, Jensen realized grimly. He crouched down, shoving his whole body up against Jensen’s legs,pinning him in place and swiftly zip-tying his ankles together, hobbling him again.

Groaning in fury, Jensen tried to straighten, to stand, but his collar was leashed too tight to the hold bar, leaving him stooped over it awkwardly.

“See, we couldn’t have a nice shower together. Instead you had to pull something like this. Well sweetheart, your loss.”

Jensen huddled miserably in the corner while Morgan carefully cleaned himself, humming tunelessly. Jensen let his throbbing head rest against the cool tile and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them he had a bird’s eye view of the dark swirls of Zeke circling the drain. He side-eyed Jeff, catching him as the man lathered up his chest and cock, running the soapy cloth all over, his cock rising up through it’s nest of suds as Morgan tugged on it absently. Jensen grimaced and Morgan spotted him and grinned, dimples showing through the scruff of his beard. “Ah, don’t you worry son, I’ll get to you soon enough.” Morgan tugged on his dick meaningfully and smirked.

Jensen glanced quickly back down at the floor and the room started to turn. He squeezed his eyes closed, ruthlessly shoving down the moan of pain that wanted to escape past his lips. He was still dizzy, and instead of clearing up it was only getting worse, his head wrapped in progressively more and more layers of thick, unwieldy cotton. More disturbing than his growing weakness in the face of the enemy was the wave of heat running through him. A bolt of pure lust left him weak in the knees and he had to stop himself from whining out loud as his cock fattened. Jensen didn’t get it, this was the least sexy situation he’d ever been in, and here he was getting all hot and bothered like never before, and popping a boner. He never thought he was into the kinky stuff.

Great, just what he needed, a concussion while he was trying to get away from a berserk Special Ops who wanted him as a… sex slave – and his own body seemed to be more than all right with the idea. Jensen flushed in embarrassment as his morning wood fattened further, his cock curling up toward his belly. How the fuck was he going to hide that from Morgan’s all knowing eyes? Fuck, he was Zombie Tactical, the baddest of the bad, how the hell had he let things come to this?

A broad hand on his ass cheek cut short his drift from reality and had him lurching forward in surprise. Jensen felt Morgan’s other hand catch his shoulder and pull him back against his groin as he crowded up against him.

“Hmm, I see at least some part of you is okay with this, Green Eyes.” Morgan smirked and crowded up against him, using the bulk of his body to hold Jensen in place. He reached forward and took Jensen’s dick in hand and said amicably, “Waste not, want not.” Morgan gave Jensen’s cock a couple of firm tugs before rolling a condom he magicked from somewhere onto Jensen’s rapidly hardening flesh. Jensen’s eyebrows rose in shock at the sensation of Morgan’s hand on his cock, the flesh tingling beneath his touch, and he groaned when Morgan finished rolling on the condom and let him go, his cock bobbing stupidly in the air in front of him. Jensen bit the inside of his cheek, willing it to go down.

He could feel the growing press of Morgan’s erection against his hip as his fingers began to soap and massage Jensen’s hair, tsking like a mother hen as the suds almost slid into Jensen’s eyes.

“Gonna get you cleaned up some, too. All purdy-like, Green Eyes.”

Jensen closed his eyes in humiliation as Morgan’s hands traveled intimately over every inch of his body, the too-slow touch delving into every nook and cranny of his body with the soapy cloth. His straining cock though, seemed all too keen on the situation. Like a dumb puppy that doesn't know it's going to be kicked. Jensen bit the inside of his mouth to keep him from groaning out loud.

“Oh you were a dirty, dirty boy too, Green Eyes. Gonna have to pay close attention to you now, make sure all the dirt gets cleaned out.”

The rough pads of Morgan’s fingers returned again and again to tug and pull at his nipples, the nubs slowly stiffening under the unwanted attention. The rough twists and tugs sent sizzles like lightning running through him, and Jensen gnawed at his lips. Since when were his nipples this sensitive? A flash of unaccustomed heat went through Jensen’s body and Morgan chuckled as if he knew it, while his fingers trailed down Jensen’s chest, reaching unhurriedly to take Jensen’s cock in hand.

Jensen tried to jerk away from the unwanted touch, but was brought up short by his tether, the plastic digging cruelly into his neck. Closing his eyes in helplessness Jensen started to growl in the back of his throat.

“You back-talk me boy, and I got a muzzle I can put on you.” Jeff stated calmly as he dropped his fatigues in a heap on the shower floor and squirted some shampoo onto them before squirting some on his hands. He started to tug roughly at Jensen’s straining dick.

Jensen kept his eyes resolutely squeezed shut, willing himself somewhere else, but the darkness only intensified the sensations sparking through him. Pushed tight against the shower wall, he could do nothing as Morgan continued to jack him slowly; his other hand traveled down, squeezing the swell of Jensen’s ass. The rough grope was only a prelude to Morgan’s fingers burrowing in between the tight globes of his ass to rub roughly across his entrance.

Though he was still loose from the previous night’s rape, Jensen gasped as Morgan’s fingers shoved into him, and began to press in and out of his hole. Jensen tossed his head like a skittish colt, leaning as far away from Morgan’s touch as he could, but Morgan only wound his other arm across Jensen’s shoulders, pulling him back roughly onto Morgan’s fingers as he continued to pump in and out of him. Morgan hunched down, blanketing his back and started sucking and licking Jensen’s neck.

“C'mon, baby, gonna loosen you up, make you feel so good, get you all cleaned out so we can fill you back up.” Morgan’s blunt fingers brushed again and again across Jensen’s prostate, and unwillingly, Jensen began to shudder at the sensations running through him.

He could feel the fierce grin on Morgan’s lips as he sucked a fresh bruise on Jensen’s neck, “That’s my boy, gonna learn to come for me. Come for me on my fingers or not at all.” Morgan continued to rub relentlessly on that sparking spot, and Jensen shivered as a growing tide of need coiled unwillingly through him. “Come for me, Jensen.” Morgan whispered in Jensen’s ear as his fingers pushed in and out of him more rapidly.

“Not quite there, are you boy?” Morgan mused darkly in Jensen’s ear, and his left arm loosened from its hold around Jensen’s chest, his fingers drifting down Jensen’s chest, pinching and soothing. The hand dropped lower, to finally run a rough thumb up the vein along Jensen’s cock, finishing with a rough rub under the sensitive head through the condom. That final brief touch was suddenly too much, and Jensen stiffened, barely able to stifle his cry as he came in Morgan’s hand, filling the condom.

Morgan continued to rock his fingers inside him as Jensen shivered in the aftermath of his orgasm. “Good boy, good boy, my big tough marine, let it all out, Green Eyes.” Morgan cooed gently. Jensen was beginning to hate the sound of the man’s voice.

He withdrew his fingers, wiping them off on Jensen’s back as the warm water continued to stream over both of them. Jensen closed his eyes, his skin heating in humiliation. Morgan gently unrolled the condom tying it off and throwing it into the sink. One long arm reached outside the shower to snag a second condom and soon Morgan was rolling it onto Jensen’s oversensitive and still half-hard cock.

“Now let’s clean you out,” Morgan stated calmly as he switched the water from the overhead shower to the hand nozzle, his hand kneading Jensen’s shoulder gently. He briefly sprayed Jensen’s head, removing the last of the soap and shampoo, then ran the spray wand down his back and down across his ass. Morgan wedged a leg in front of Jensen, crowding him closer into the shower stall wall. Jensen heard a click as Morgan changed the spray setting and then the man was pressing the wand between the cheeks of his ass and against Jensen’s hole. He felt a hard, warm current of water shoot inside him, filling him and Jensen yelped, wriggling forward as far as he could as he struggled to get away from the invading stream. It only earned him a wet, harsh slap on the ass as Morgan kept the wand shoved in close. “Hold still, I say.” Morgan ordered, the crack of command in his voice.

Jensen continued to squirm as the water began to fill him and some of it flowed out, a full, heavy feeling in his loins, a sick vulnerable feeling in his gut. Finally Morgan seemed satisfied, turned off the water, and hung up the nozzle. Jensen could feel liquid leaking back out of him, running down the back of his balls and along his leg. He breathed out a sigh of relief when Morgan didn’t try to make him hold it in or some other kinky shit. It was bad enough as it was.

A barking laugh, and Morgan was grasping both cheeks of his ass jiggling them. “That’s better now. Right, sweetheart? Now we gotta mark you up, make you mine.”

There was a brief pause as Morgan reached out to the counter and grabbed up a small foil sachet. Jensen heard the sounds of Morgan slicking himself up and gasped as two slick fingers plunged briefly back inside him before the broad head of Jeff’s cock was nudging at his entrance.

Morgan moaned as he slid inside him. His broad thick cock burrowing in until he was buried to the balls in Jensen’s heat.

“Mmfthg. God damn, Green eyes, you’re a tight fit.” Jensen could imagine Morgan licking his lips as his hands clamped onto Jensen's hips with a grip like a vise. “Been looking forward to this all morning, not sure how long I’ll last.” And Jeff started to rock in and out of him with greater and greater strength. Shoved up into the corner Jensen’s head was forced down, his shoulders jammed against the tile wall, his body jerking back and forth with each of Jeff’s thrusts. He was feeling even dizzier and a little sick as Morgan pounded into him. His treacherous cock even started to fill again as Morgan continued to rub against Jensen’s prostate as often as he could.

Fearing he was close to throwing up as Jeff continued to pound into him, it came as a relief when the man finally pulled up tight against him, his cock twitching and balls pulling up as he finally came deep inside Jensen.

Jeff let himself hunch forward over Jensen, hands curling around his chest to tug at nipples that were hard buds once again. Morgan’s beard scratched at the bare skin of Jensen’s back as he continued to rock against him.

“Mmmm, fuck yeah.”

Finally Morgan pulled out, wiping his slick-covered dick casually across Jensen’s back.

“Come on Green Eyes, one more time should do it.”

 

: : :

Morgan hooked his thumb into Jensen’s mouth and pulled his head down.

Come on boy, don’t keep me waiting, clean me up and get me going.

Jensen stared down at Morgan slick covered dick and felt ill. He wanted to gag, but Morgan shoved his face down and fed him his half hard cock.

“Yeah, that’s my boy suck me clean.”

Jensen’s stomach rippled as he tasted the dark taint on Jeff’s cock, a cruel twist of a hand on his own cock had him crying out. Only Jeff’s other thumb in his mouth stopping him from biting down.

“Ugcchhh.” Jensen mumbled against the invading flesh and after another cruel twist of his cock in Morgan’s hand started to suck and lick at Morgan’s cock in earnest. Faster than Jensen would have thought for a man his age Morgan’s cock was swelling in his mouth and Jensen struggled to suck around it and not choke.

“Oh, not too much. That’s a good boy, so close.” Morgan hummed and pulled his cock from Jensen’s mouth.

The cheeks of his ass were parted and Jensen was shoved even harder against the shower wall as Morgan’s cock slid up between them. But instead of plunging inside again, Morgan used his hands to squeeze Jensen’s cheeks tighter around his cock as he pistoned back and forth along the crease. Morgan was panting now, panting and swearing. “Fuck, baby, almost as good this way as in your sweet little hole. Gonna mark you up. Ughh.” And Morgan was coming, shooting ropy lengths of white all over Jensen’s back while Morgan’s movements juddered to a gradual stop.

Finally Morgan pulled his cock free, tapping the slick head against Jensen’s ass. Instead of turning the shower back on as Jensen expected him to do, Morgan’s hand rubbed over Jensen’s back, working his come into Jensen’s skin like it was some kind of skin softener.

“Yeah, that’s it, hold still for me now. Good boy.” Jensen shivered in reaction and disgust, but he couldn't act, he couldn't think, his head hurt so badly he could hardly see. Morgan hummed and smeared the sticky mash of come all over Jensen's back, and across his chest and neck. Jensen grimaced, knowing this will dry to a stiff and itchy crust. When Morgan said he wanted to mark him up Jensen never thought in a million years he meant like this.

“Might have to freshen this up some later in the day. We’ll see, right? There’s always more where that came from.” Morgan chuckled grimly and stepped out of the shower and began to dry off, leaving Jensen still hunched over, tethered to the grab bar, shivering and strangely disoriented.

Once Morgan was dressed in an identical set of clean fatigues, he carefully washed the soap out of the ones that had been soaking on the floor of the shower. He rolled the now mostly clean clothes up in one of the president’s fluffy towels, and stowed it in his kit. Morgan methodically combed through the bathroom for anything of use, leaving the room, then returning briefly to grasp Jensen by the back of the neck, twisting his head around so he could peer into his eyes.

“Hmmm.’ Morgan hummed or at least, one of the two Morgans Jensen could see, hummed and dropped his head, seemingly satisfied. “Just about there.”

Jensen could hear the sounds of buckles snapping and zippers closing in the next room as Morgan stowed his gear. He had a sudden horrible fear that the man was going to leave him here to die, bent over in the shower, ready for Zeke to stumble over him and eat their way through his upturned ass. Jensen shuddered at the prospect and wearily closed his eyes. He refused to beg the bastard for his life.

He hunched there shivering as the come dried in tight itchy patches, his bound ankles sore and aching as he rocked his weight from one foot to the other. He groaned softly, both resigned and irritated by the fuzzy vision and dizziness he couldn’t seem to shake. He outright refused to acknowledge his stupid cock that was again at full mast hard and aching against his belly. What the hell was in the water here? He twisted his wrists, but the zip ties were as strong now as they were an hour ago. He was going nowhere until Morgan cut him loose. Jensen tried to make plans. If he could somehow overpower the man and get his weapon, Jensen's armor might still be in the belly of the plane. Worse case, he would strip Morgan of his gear and leave him to fend for himself in the zone. Jensen grimaced, he had no delusions that Morgan had anything but ill intentions. He was no better than Zeke. He huffed out a breath, at least Zeke didn’t know any better.

Morgan’s hand was suddenly on Jensen’s shoulder and Jensen jerked so hard in surprise he thought he might have dislocated something. Since when did he allow himself to drift off like that in a Red zone? Jensen tossed his head, rearing back with a growl. “What? One more fuck for the road?” Jensen snarled. Morgan’s mouth twisted in what might have been a smirk, his fingers plucking at the now slightly tidier end of his beard.

“Sweetheart, what gave you the impression I was leaving you behind? You’re integral to my operation here. I’ve just come to cut you loose. Now, no funny business or I’ll be forced to hurt you.”

Morgan’s fingers traced gently over Jensen’s swelling cheek where his previous blow had landed. “I know you won’t really believe this now, but I really don’t want to hurt you.”

Jensen snorted in disbelief.

“Unless I have to.”

Blurry as Jensen’s image of Morgan was as he squinted and side-eyed the man, he seemed sincere. Jensen shrugged. “Whatever, man.”

Morgan’s hand tightened in threat on the nape of Jensen’s neck, and Jensen quickly amended, “Sir.”

“Good boy.” Morgan patted his ass and crouched down to cut his ankles free.

Jensen’s lip curled in disgust at the placid way he stood there, simply taking whatever Morgan dished out, but as the room continued to spiral around him slowly he didn’t have the wherewithal for another confrontation right now.

Morgan unsnapped the leash and urged Jensen to standing. “Come on, boy. We gotta chow down and get moving.” Morgan grasped Jensen’s collar and half-hauled, half-supported him into the main cabin. Jensen collapsed weakly onto the bed and Morgan looked down at him. Jensen blinked trying to clear his vision.

“Your vision will be slightly blurry for the next eight hours or so, part of the side effects. I guess it can’t be helped.” Morgan pressed a water bottle to Jensen’s lips and he started to swallow automatically, suddenly madly thirsty. Jensen couldn’t quite concentrate long enough to protest as Morgan hand fed him one of the remaining steak dinners as an early breakfast, but after only a few bites Jensen had to turn his head away, the room spinning faster.

“S’okay, we’ll save it for later.” Morgan packed up a few remaining items while Jensen sat there passively. Time seemed to pass at uneven intervals, and Jensen wondered if he was blacking out while Morgan finished stowing their foraged supplies into his buldging knapsack. Morgan’s attention returned to him again as he eyed Jensen’s bobbing erection.

“Okay, we’ll get you milked and get moving.”

Jensen didn’t have time to wonder what he meant by that before Morgan was beside him on the bed and he was being tipped over onto Morgan’s lap. Jensen squirmed weakly, but Morgan used one hand to pull up sharply on his collar cutting off his air, while the broad palm of his other hand landed on his bare ass with a hard smack. “Still!” Morgan ordered.

Choking and gasping for breath, Jensen reluctantly did as he was told.

Morgan rubbed his fingers briefly over Jensen’s condom-clad cock, carefully weighing his balls in his hand before sliding his fingers back along his perineum to gently trace around his hole. Then two long, blunt, mercifully slick digits were burrowing back inside him. Morgan made no pretense of getting Jensen ready to fuck him, simply rubbed determinedly against his prostate.

“Told you boy, you come on my cock or my fingers or not at all. I been easy on you so far, but you gotta learn.” And Jensen was twisting his hips futilely trying to maneuver himself closer to Morgan so he could rub off against his leg. But Jeff held him perfectly in place, and his cock hung twitching in the air. Jensen swore teetering at the edge.

Morgan continued to rub inside him and despite the lack of contact Jensen found himself crying out as he filled the second condom.

Morgan carefully removed the condom, then shoved Jensen off his legs onto the floor to recover.

Jensen watched blurry eyed as Morgan carefully squeezed out the come onto a washcloth sized square of fabric and tied it onto the back of his knapsack. He retrieved the earlier condom from the sink and squeezed it’s contents over his combat boots.

From the carpeted floor Jensen watched him, totally perplexed, but his head hurt too badly to question anything.

Turning back to him, Morgan tugged him to his feet and made Jensen step into a pair of army fatigues.

Jensen shook his head blearily, these weren’t his clothes.

“Put em on, Green Eyes, those dress blues won’t last a minute in the zone.”

Numbly Jensen acquiesced, nodding absently and wondering where Morgan had got the clothes, clearly a whole size smaller than Morgan’s own. The rough scrape of something dried and sticky on the pants leg gave him his answer, and Jensen shivered.

Next, Morgan tugged a pair of socks onto Jensen's feet, and a pair of combat boots that seemed to fit well enough, though Jensen knew after a hard day’s trekking the unfamiliar fit would probably leave his feet raw with blisters.

Morgan shouldered his pack, took up his AKA-47 and cocked it. He looked down at Jensen expectantly. Bewildered, Jensen looked down at his still bare chest and then dazedly up at Morgan, where was his damn shirt?

Morgan smirked, dimples appearing. “Nuh, un Green Eyes, we want everyone to get a good whiff of you. Now up.” Morgan tugged roughly on the leash. “Time for your big debut.”

Jensen staggered to his feet and Morgan pushed him toward the door. As he drew closer, Jensen could make out soft clawing at the door. Zeke was right behind it, but not getting through any time soon. Not until the door opened from this side.

“My gear…” Jensen choked out, his voice raspy and weak, looking over his shoulder helplessly at Morgan. “My gun.”

“Oh, you got all you’re gonna need sweetheart. All you’re gonna need.”

Morgan reached forward and quickly swung the door open, stepping back and raising his weapon, leaving Jensen standing alone and half-naked in the doorway.

Three zombies stood at the door, heads rearing up as it opened, snarls of surprise coming from them. One nearly fell into the room, but quickly righted itself and was suddenly in Jensen’s face.

Another zombie knocked up against him and Jensen thought, Fuck, so this was it.

 

: : :

Comments Always Appreciated ^^


	3. RΩAR, JDM/JA, AU, NC-17 [ ROAR ]

: : :

Jensen stared directly into the pale ghostly eyes and ravaged face, fleetingly grateful for his blurry vision softening the details. The fetid smell of its breath made Jensen step back, survival instincts finally clicking into his bleary brain. This was Zeke – he should be running, diving for cover for God’s sake, at the very least trying to get himself a weapon.

“Stop. Don't make any sudden moves, let’em get a good whiff of you.” Morgan’s order rumbled close to his ear as the older man pressed in behind him. His bulk and the hard grip on his bicep holding Jensen firmly in place.

Jensen wanted to say something, something witty designed to set Morgan’s teeth on edge, but two of Zeke’s friends had now staggered inside the room to join them, heads titled sideways in odd almost birdlike movements. Their mouths opened and closed, as they scented the air. The lead Zeke in front of Jensen started to chittered his teeth clattering together like castanets before his head dipped forward and he snuffled up against him.

Fuck, so this was it? Jensen closed his eyes and waited for the bite, the agony of blunt teeth as they dug into defenceless flesh, waited for the snarling, wailing hysteria of Zeke in full feeding frenzy to fill his ears while he screamed. He prayed he’d go out with some semblance of dignity, but he’d seen stronger men than he was go down crying. His hands unconsciously twisted in their bonds, blood dripping from the grooves as the zip ties cut into them.

A fourth zombie knocked up against him, soggy decaying skin sliding across his bare arm. Jensen could feel his nipples tighten, his gut fluttered vulnerable and exposed. Jensen’s breath started to come in short, harsh gasps, as he braced himself. The stench of rotting flesh filled his senses. The first Zeke paused, then bobbed its head around in front of Jensen’s chest and belly, teeth still clacking. It jerked up right suddenly then moaned and lurched haphazardly past him. It bumped up against Morgan but continued on deeper into the room. Zekes two, three and four staggered forward to join it completely ignoring them.

What the hell?

Had he run into the only vegetarian Zeke in the zone? What just happened? Jensen exhaled raggedly, his body trembling in shock. He blinked rapidly, desperately willing the soft fuzziness of the room to come into focus, to tell him this wasn’t all just a bad dream.

Morgan's gruff voice was there, grounding him. “Easy now.” His fist at the back of Jensen’s neck, tightened on the leash. The sharp cut of the plastic against his windpipe forced a wheezing grunt from him. In spite of the pain it caused him, Jensen tossed his head defiantly. Morgan jerked him back against his chest, his voice a menacing hiss in his ear as he cinched Jensen’s collar tighter, “No sudden moves, Green Eyes,” Another few Zeke shuffled by them, and Jensen’s gaze rolled around the room trying to keep track of the blurry forms that continued to stagger past them like they were invisible.

Jensen held his breath, waiting for the low moans to escalate. Waited for the screaming to start. But instead, Zeke simply shambled around the stateroom bumping into the few pieces of furniture, and completely ignoring them. Morgan eased back and gave Jensen a bit of slack on the collar. Gasping for breath, Jensen’s chin slumped forward to his chest, huffing like a choo choo as he sucked in air. He was lightheaded, the room seemed to be spinning again, and he was teetering on his feet. He desperately wanted to turn and shove Morgan off him, wanted to run, get as far away from the man and Zeke as he could, but practically blind, and pinned down as he was, he could do little more than shiver in delayed reaction.

Morgan’s arms eased around, hugging him to his chest, steadying him and keeping him upright until his panic attack passed.

Since when did he have panic attacks? A few heartbeats later, Morgan growled low in his ear. “Okay, let’s move out.”

Jensen staggered forward through the cabin door. Unable to use his hands to guide his half blind progress he bumped up against the airplane's walls. His mind was still whirling from what had just happened. What the hell had just happened?

: : :

Morgan herded him ungently along the corridor of the plane. It was surreal moving untouched and unnoticed past groups of Zeke scattered throughout the ship, gleefully tearing at the flesh of Jensen’s former colleagues. Mid section of the plane, Morgan yanked him to a sudden stop, and shoved him down into a seat.

“Cop a squat there, Green Eyes, Daddy’s got some work to do.” Jensen glared up at what he hoped was Morgan’s face. He snarled at his captor in what he promised himself was a good impression of toughness before collapsing weakly into the seat, whirling dizziness surrounding him. He blinked rapidly but his vision remained steadfastly fogged over, shapes vague and indiscriminate.

A blurry Morgan-shaped blob reached past him and with a grunt of effort and a dull thud, pulled what Jensen could only assume was a dead body out of the window seat. Morgan shoved it into the aisle and then wedged himself past Jensen and began to fiddle with something at the window. Morgan’s hum of triumph heralded a metallic grinding sound and a bright flood of light as the emergency escape hatch opened. There was a soft hiss, and then Morgan was wrestling Jensen up out of his seat and shoving him through the hatch.

In sudden, unexpected freefall, Jensen resisted the urge to scream and prayed the crashed plane wasn’t too far from the ground. His whole field of vision went bright yellow and a shocked grunt escaped him as his shoulder bounced into the plastic of the plane's inflatable escape slide. He half fell, half slid the rest of the way to the ground, coming to an abrupt stop as the slide ended and Jensen’s bare shoulder and chest slammed up against a rough mound of debris. He grunted as Morgan’s larger, heavier body followed shortly, slamming into him, shoving Jensen up against the wreckage.

Morgan recovered first, and with a rough tug of the leash – and oh, was that getting old fast – Morgan urged him to his feet.

Jensen pulled back, stubbornly resisting Morgan’s unspoken command. He wondered what it was in him that just couldn’t give in, surrender to the circumstances, instead, out of his own mouth, came, “If that’s the way you treat first class, I hope I never fly coach with you.”

Morgan chuckled and tugged on his leash. “Come on smart ass, time to see if we can find our way into the belly of the beast.”

Wincing as he stood, the smell of blood from his cuts and scrapes sharp in the air, Jensen allowed himself to be shoved forward.

His ears pricked at the distinctive moans and shuffles. Zeke was all around them.

Seemingly unconcerned, Morgan yanked Jensen to a halt and whistled appreciatively. “Man, oh man, when they crash they do make the big splash. Looks like we got lucky though, there’s a huge tear in the undercarriage. I should be able to wriggle my way inside.”

“Okay, down, like a good boy.” Morgan shoved Jensen to his knees. Jensen fell heavily, and flinched as metal and glass dug into his knees through the fatigues. Morgan tied Jensen’s leash to a random slab of bulkhead and gripped his shoulder cruelly, forcing his head up. “Now stay. There’s lots of dangers other than Zeke hereabouts, ‘specially with your sight the way it is. Doc warned it would be pretty shaky when the shot fully kicked in. I’m going in to try to dig out your body armor, never know when it might come in handy. I don’t want you to move a muscle while I’m gone. What colour was your duffel, son?

Morgan shrugged off his pack and dropped it beside him as Jensen stared mutinously at the blurry blob of the special ops man.

“Glare at me all you want, son. Piss me off too much and you could be missing some vital parts. I may need your body to get us through Zeke territory, but that don’t necessarily have to include all the dangly bits.”

Morgan pressed the cool flat of his blade to Jensen’s cheek, and trailed it down his neck. Jensen hadn’t even seen the blurred movement of Morgan’s hand. Jensen swallowed, hard. Fuck. He wanted to tell the man to go to hell, but if he was going to make it out of here alive he needed to stay in one piece long enough to get his sea legs under him, give the shot a chance to wear off so he could damn well see. He’d have to suck it up, literally, he realized with a fleeting grimace and play along, for now at least.

“Green duffel with a red ZTM logo on the side. Should be up near the top, I boarded near the end.” Jensen’s voice sounded gravely to his ears, his abused throat fucked out and scratchy. Morgan’s silhouette loomed over him, dipping down. Suddenly his thumb was in Jensen’s mouth shoving the hinge of his jaw wide as he ran the digit over the hard surface of Jensen’s teeth in a proprietary way. Jensen tried to jerk back, but Morgan’s other hand was in his hair jerking his neck back. Morgan hooked his thumb in between Jensen’s teeth forcing his jaw wider holding him in place as Jensen knelt there, helpless and drooling.

“You don’t move away from me when I touch you, boy.” Morgan growled, descending quickly and biting down viciously on Jensen’s bottom lip. Blood and drool poured down Jensen’s chin onto his chest. “You’re mine, son, and the sooner you learn that, the better off we’ll both be.” Morgan slowly withdrew his hand from Jensen’s mouth and ran his slick fingers lightly over Jensen’s cheek. A sharp sudden slap to Jensen’s face followed, more of a warning than a true blow. Then he was gone.

“Don’t forget to bring me back a coffee dear. No sugar.” Jensen called out at JDM’s retreating form, unwilling to appear cowed even while that was exactly how he felt, huddled on his knees in the shadow of the wreckage. His mind spun frantically. He pushed aside any thoughts of Morgan’s latest infuriating demonstration of dominance. He needed to pull together the pieces of what just happened. It was too easy to write Morgan off as some kind of psycho with a come obsession, but none of this made any sense. Did Morgan really have enough much free time to indulge in come-play in the middle of the Red Zone? Even on his best days, Jensen knew he wasn’t that irresistible. Why though, would Jensen’s come suddenly have mythic powers as a Zeke repellant? There was no way in hell Jensen had started suddenly shooting magic jizz out his dick. Something else was going on.

Jensen fixed his gaze on the rubble beneath him and tried to focus. The dizziness made it hard to concentrate, the whole world titling sickeningly around him. The one thing Jensen knew for sure was that Zeke had a great nose. They might not see much through those misted over eyes, but their sense of smell was acute. And Morgan had already admitted to putting something in his food or water or…. Jensen suddenly remembered the strange injection Morgan had given him that morning when he first woke up. What kind of shot would suddenly stop Zeke from tearing a man apart? And how did that tie in with the rape, the strange marking?

Jensen’s head jerked up at the dull thump of something hitting the ground and being dragged along with Morgan’s curses. Jensen ignored him, trying to keep the threads of his thoughts together while he could. Scent, shared scent, that had to be it. Something about the shot altered Jensen’s scent and made him invisible to Zeke, and if that was true, insane as it sounded, maybe his come was somehow keeping Morgan alive and safe, as well. Jensen should be able to use that. Just, how?

“What the hell do you boys travel with? Lead blocks?” Morgan huffed as he dropped Jensen’s recovered duffel down beside him and squatted.

He heard the zip of the duffel opening and Morgan began to rifle through his kit.

“Hmm, won’t be needing this, or this.” Jensen cocked his head, catching the dull thuds of various items hitting the ground as Morgan tossed them aside. “Ha, the Art of War? Seriously? You read this shit?” Morgan guffawed and Jensen heard the book thump as it hit the ground. Jensen’s mouth tightened in anger, it had been a gift from a friend. A close friend he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Another casualty of the war on Zeke.

“Well I guess I hadn’t anticipated meeting you, if I did I would have picked up a copy of ‘Art of War for Dummies’.”

Jensen’s jaw snapped shut instantly and he closed his eyes. Stupid. He could have bit his tongue, letting his hot head get the best of him.

“Ahh don’t be bitter, Green Eyes, just cause I love you for your body.”

“Fuck you, Morgan.” Jensen said from between clenched teeth.

“No, that would be fuck you baby boy. But not just now. Right now we gotta hit the road. There will be lots of time to tap that sweet ass of yours later tonight.”

Morgan whistled as he unzipped another bag. Jensen could almost see it before him, the armor Zombie Tactical used was some of the most coveted kit the Northern Alliance had. Made of an ultralight derivative of Kevlar, the Zevlar suit was custom fitted to each marine. This exoskeleton of dense but light and flexible material made it nearly impossible for Zeke to penetrate in a one-on-one situation. The problem with Zeke, though, was they rarely traveled alone. It was the ones that snuck up on you from behind that did you in.

“Damn, that’s some sweet shit you got there Green Eyes. If we’d had kit like this we wouldn’t have had to make this devil’s deal in the first place.”

Jensen tipped his head enquiringly, but Morgan said no more. When he finished emptying out the duffel of anything but essentials, Jensen felt a rough tug on his leash. “Come on, up with you. I ain’t carrying your shit.” Morgan started to strap the duffel bag onto Jensen’s back with the use of some coarse rope.

Jensen jerked back, he could feel the rough fibers digging in to his skin. He’d be a torn mess in no time. “Jesus, Morgan, I need to be wearing that, not carrying it, for fuck’s sake. I’m practically blind and we’re in the Red Zone if you haven’t noticed.”

A deep chuck sounded in his ear before Morgan gripped his chin hard, and pulled him in, capturing his mouth with brutal force. Morgan lips attacked him like a ravenous beast, his tongue pressing against the seam of Jensen’s mouth demanding entry. Stubbornly, Jensen resisted, and Morgan’s hand in his hair jerked him closer. Morgan snarled and his teeth sank into Jensen’s lower lip, drawing blood. Startled at the brutality, Jensen had no choice but to open and let Morgan in.

Morgan’s tongue swept inside, exploring and claiming with equal strength. He ground himself up against Jensen’s body and Jensen could feel the thick, fully aroused length of Morgan’s cock through his fatigues as he ruts against him. Captive in the cage of Morgan’s arms, Jensen could do little except remain passive under the onslaught.

Finally, panting, Morgan tore himself free of Jensen’s mouth and stood, forehead pressed against Jensen’s in a mockery of tenderness. “Oh sweetheart, you’re so much safer like you are than in that fancy gear. Only real question right now is if I have time to fuck you or not. But tempting as you are, we gotta get on the road.”

Morgan’s hand trailed down Jensen’s chest, pinching deliberately at his already erect nipples. “And something tells me you’re not entirely against the idea, either.”

Jensen pulled back and tried to free himself of Morgan’s hands. The man let him, and Jensen scrambled to re-gather his train of thought.

“Well, at least free my hands, and hook my arms through the straps of the duffel. I don’t care how Zeke proof you think we are, tied like that, I’m sure the smell of fresh blood will still interest them. Of course the upside is I’ll get a ringside seat when Zeke comes to chew on both of us.” Jensen glared at the Morgan shaped blur in front of him, definitely, a thrill of satisfaction rushing through him as Morgan stilled.

Suddenly a hand was grasping his neck, squeezing viciously. “Think you’re got it all figured out do you Green Eyes? Well nothing in this world comes without a price. What are you gonna do for me in return, boy?” Morgan pushed Jensen’s head against his thigh, where Morgan’s growing erection strained the material.

Jensen calculated the damage versus the humiliation and dropped slowly to his knees, his head high as he replied cockily. “I guess getting boned by you is marginally better than being boned by Zeke.”

“Ah, but I thought you didn’t swing that way, Green Eyes? But if you insist. And I want some enthusiasm, like last night”

Cheeks reddening, and a flush creeping over his chest, Jensen had to look away, to give himself time to get his expression under control. When he turned back he kept his head down, willing this to be over as soon as possible.

“Uh, ah boy, eyes on me. Beg me for it.” Morgan slowly unzipped his fatigues, dropping them down so he could pull his already hard dick out.

Jensen licked his lips cautiously. “I want to suck your cock sir. Please let me suck you.” He tried to inject as much enthusiasm as he could into the words. Morgan simply stood there and Jensen worried he had been a dismal failure and started again, “Please sir…I want.”

Morgan shoved his cock up against Jensen’s lips cutting off his desultory pleas. “Shuttup and suck me boy.” Morgan’s gravely voice sent shivers down Jensen’s spine. He forced himself to open his mouth, his tongue licking out tentatively, lapping at the blunt head of Morgan’s cock. It was warm and covered in precome and Jensen’s forced down his disgust as he dug his tongue into the weeping slit, the taste bitter and salty, with just a lingering trace of shampoo.

He swept his tongue around, rubbing under the helmet head, and Morgan groaned. In spite of himself, Jensen was responding to the situation. His cock, already half hard upon waking, fattened quickly, sparks shooting up Jensen’s spine at the scent of Morgan’s arousal. Mouth suddenly watering, Jensen started to mouth and lick his way down Morgan’s straining length, but Morgan simply grabbed him by the hair and jerked him up, nudging his cock between Jensen’s lips.

Suddenly, Jensen was rock hard and straining in his pants, so close to coming it was scary. He moaned and couldn’t stop himself from shuffling closer, pushing himself up against Morgan. Before he could start to hump the GI’s leg in earnest, Morgan grabbed him by the collar and pushed him back so he was was lying folded back at the knees, his back on the ground. Like a beached turtle, Jensen lay helpless and bound at Morgan’s feet. Jensen whined, lust zinging through his blood, his bound hands reaching up toward Morgan beseechingly.

“Hang on baby, I’ll get you there, but if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Morgan unzipped Jensen and reached into his pants, fondling Jensen’s aching cock and balls and pulling them out. Jensen whimpered, thrusting up into Morgan’s hand needily. Jensen caught the flash of Morgan’s smile and he could almost see the dints in his bearded cheeks as he laughed that infuriating condescending laugh before he grabbed hold of Jensen’s cock in earnest and started to jack him off. The first couple of strokes were dry and rough, but then Morgan started to run his hand up over the weeping head of Jensen’s dick using his own slick to ease the way. Jensen was whimpering steadily now – and, how did that happen? Jensen turned his head aside in humiliation, what was happening to him? But he couldn’t stop the thrust of his hips into Morgan’s warm hand. He was close, so close.

When Morgan released him to slip the condom over his cock, pinching the base to stop him from coming, Jensen cried out in pain. Morgan only laughed and hauled Jensen up to his knees again. “That’s not how this works, Green Eyes, this is not about your pleasure, now, is it?”

Jensen snarled to hide his need, and parried with an attack. “I never took you for such a tease Morgan.”

The sad fact was, Jensen would promise anything if it got him off right now. He was able to take one last breath before Morgan’s cock was back, nudging at his lips before he and pushed in deep. Morgan didn't even use his thumb to hold Jensen’s teeth apart, and honestly, Jensen was too busy gasping in brief snatches of air to even think about that.

Morgan set up a brutal pace, fucking into Jensen’s face like a man possessed. The thick length of Morgan’s cock choked him when it nudged the back of his throat, and Jensen struggled to swallow him down. The wide painful stretch of his mouth and the gasping, choking sounds he was making only seemed to spur Morgan on.

“Fuck me, those lips of yours,” Morgan gasped, and his cock started to ripple and twitch in Jensen’s mouth. A warning grunt was all he got before Morgan was shoving himself in, burying himself to the root down Jensen’s throat. Unable to breathe Jensen was skewered by cock, face buried deep in Morgan’s pubes.

And God help him it was humiliating, but somehow it was also so hot, Jensen pushing himself back up against Morgan’s leg and Morgan letting him. He didn't let himself think about the fact that he was humping the man’s leg like a damned dog. His cock was rock hard again, stiffly sticking out of his pants, and the friction against Morgan’s fatigues, even through the numbing presence of the condom, almost had his eyes rolling back in his head.

And Morgan, damn him to eternal hell, was starting to moan, rocking back and forth in small movements. Black spots were appearing in Jensen's blurry vision and he knew he was running out of time. He tried to pull back, but Morgan’s hand in his hair kept him pinned firmly in place.

He’d already resigned himself to dying with Morgan’s dick down his throat when Morgan’s balls finally drew up. A roar, and Morgan was shooting his load deep down Jensen’s throat, his cock pulsing and rippling. Frantically, insanely, choking, Jensen rubbed his aching dick up against Morgan’s leg one last time and came again, and again, pulse after pulse of seed jetting out and filling the condom. He was floating on a high like nothing he’d ever felt before, the world whiting out around him.

He’d never experienced anything like that, ever, but even now the need to breathe still asserted itself. Gurgling on Morgan’s softening cock, desperate, Jensen tried to hang on, but the world was fading fast.

Then, Morgan was pulling back, just enough to let Jensen suck in tiny sips of air, his throat rippling around Morgan’s cock as he struggled to breathe and swallow at the same time. Morgan stayed until Jensen’s throat milked the last of Morgan’s orgasm from him, then with a groan pulled back incrementally. Jensen despised the weak whimper that sneaked past his lips as he was able to breathe more normally around Morgan’s still half-hard cock. More alert, he finally noticed Morgan’s hands running roughly through his short hair. Then Morgan growled, “Good boy, now get me cleaned up.”

Grateful to put an end to his humiliation, Jensen’s tongue went to work cleaning Morgan off.

When he was finished to Morgan’s satisfaction, Morgan pulled out and ruthlessly forced Jensen face first onto the ground. Off kilter, Jensen’s knees barely kept up. His ass in the air, Morgan’s boot on his neck holding him down, Jensen listened as Morgan tucked himself away and zipped up. Then there was the distinctive snick of a switchblade opening.

A brief tug, and Jensen’s hands fell to his sides. He groaned as blood began to circulate through his numb limbs, prickling like hell. Before he could even think, Morgan was pulling Jensen’s arms through the loops on the pack and rolling him onto his side. His hands were pulled in front of his body, and Morgan strapped another zip tie around his wrists.

Jensen blinked up at him, dazed at Morgan’s efficiency, and Morgan laughed and tugged the condom off Jensen’s cock, still hanging outside his pants. He zipped him up, but he couldn't resist tugging on Jensen’s dick a few times before he tucked him away. “Want you to be thinking about me while we’re moving,” he chuckled. Unfortunately Jensen’s dick thought that was a fine idea; and was already struggling to rise.

Humming in satisfaction, Morgan hauled Jensen to his knees and pulled the straps snugly up over his shoulders, tying the ends together with some rope across his chest so they would stay in place. Jensen’s teeth worried at his torn lip. Although a major improvement from Morgan’s first scenario, even as it was, the rope and rough straps of the duffel would rub the skin across his shoulders and chest raw.

As if reading his mind, Morgan started to dig into his pack again. There was the sound of tearing cloth, and then Morgan was back, wrapping the loops of the pack in soft cotton strips. “Gotta say, I think you were right about those straps, Green Eyes, We’ll still swaddle you up some, gotta protect that delicate hide of yours.”

Jensen opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it closed. Morgan was already finishing up, hauling Jensen to his feet and shoving him forward. “Okay start moving, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it in.”

: : :

A couple of hours later, panting hard as he caught his breath, Jensen slumped awkwardly against the duffel at the top of a hill they just climbed. The march had been brisk, but there was no way Jensen was so out of shape he should be winded at this point. Whatever Morgan had dosed him with was affecting his whole system.

From Jensen’s blurry accounting, in the last three or four hours they’d come across several small groups of Zeke, only ten or twenty or so in total. But, like magic, they had taken no notice of the two men. Now, Morgan had skirted around the larger of the groups, which was fine by Jensen, magic potion or not. On any normal day Zeke would have been on them like white on rice, chewing off their faces at the first chance.

Whatever Morgan had, it was a powerful weapon. Obviously not perfect, as Jensen was the first to attest, if it reduced one party to a blind, helpless mess, but he could see the potential. Morgan whistled tunelessly as he rooted through his pack. “Ah! There we go, baby. Just what I was looking for.” Morgan’s blurry hand suddenly loomed in front of Jensen, and something nudged at his lips. “Open wide, Green Eyes, it’s lunchtime.”

Sniffing, Jensen could detect the faint spicy scent of jerked beef, a Marine staple on maneuvers. As much as he would have liked to keep his lips sealed and refuse the meal, he knew he was only inviting trouble to do so. He opened his mouth tentatively and Morgan thrust the tough strip of meat past his lips. Bending down forward, Jensen was able to use his hands to hold the other end of the meat. He took a bite and pulled and began to chew.

“Mmm, nothin’ like special forces jerky. They say they put a little Zeke in every strip.” Jensen quipped.

Morgan laughed and sat back on his haunches, watching Jensen eat.

Morgan reached over as Jensen chewed, and tugged on the straps. “You sore anywhere, anything chaffing? We don’t want our pretty princess scraped up.” Morgan’s hands lingered on Jensen’s chest as he tested the ropes.

Jensen shook his head and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He continued to eat while JDM went back to rifling through his duffel.

Chewing thoughtfully, Jensen stared up at the sky, squinting to confirm the sun’s location and his suspicions. Sure enough they were still heading north. But what was north? Sure, the Orange Zone was in Canada, but that was on the far side of the Red Zone. Morgan couldn’t possibly be walking them all the way to Canada, through the worst Zeke infested territory on the continent, not when the Blue or even Green Zones were hundreds of klicks closer?

Jensen had just finished the last of his strip of jerky when he heard the familiar sound of material ripping, and JDM returned beside him. “First, we got to swap out these sweat soaked clothes, and get you cleaned up some.” Morgan spread cream into the crease of his underarms where the loops from the straps had dug.

Jensen closed his eyes as the cool cream soothed the ache. He licked his lips before he realized how that might appear to Morgan.

“You like that baby?” Morgan cooed. “I can make it good for you if you stop fighting. Put this cream anywhere you want.” On a slick trail of cream, Morgan’s finger slid down Jensen’s chest and circled Jensen’s nipple teasingly. Jensen swallowed, lost in the sensation, his mouth hanging open. He could feel his own half hard cock fattening. He’d stayed hard all morning. When Morgan’s fingers started to slide across his chest to the other nipple Jensen finally had the presence of mind to jerk back in protest.

Morgan only chuckled and tugged on one of the duffel straps and began to carefully rewrap new, dry cotton strips around the more unforgiving nylon of the duffel's carrying straps.

“Why are you doing this?” Jensen’s voice was low and cracked, stripped of sarcasm. He surprised even himself with the question.

Morgan switched over his efforts to the other strap, and for a while Jensen didn’t think he’d answer, then the man blew out a breath.

“Let’s just say, I’m on a mission right now and you, Green Eyes, are part of it. Now kneel up, we got to freshen up your cover.”

Morgan tugged the straps on Jensen’s pack and pulled him up to kneeling. Jensen heard a wet squelch and then a cool, jelly like substance was being rubbed over his chest. Jensen looked away, gritting his teeth in humiliation.

“That’s right, kitty cat, gotta get you slathered up with you own mix. Now if you’d prefer fresh, that could be arranged.” Morgan’s hand snaked down and grasped Jensen’s cock through his fatigues. “But I think we should find a better time and place for that don’t you?”

Morgan didn’t release his hold on Jensen’s dick until, humiliated and flushing bright red, Jensen nodded in acknowledgement.

“Now that’s my good boy.” Morgan murmured in satisfaction. A water bottle was thrust up against his lips. “Drink up son, you got to keep up your strength.”

Stubbornly, Jensen kept his lips closed. If Morgan was going to dose him again he wasn’t going to make it easy.

Morgan grabbed the hinge of his jaw and forced his mouth open.

“You will drink, Green Eyes. It’s just a matter of how hard it will be on you when you disobey.” Water started to pour down Jensen’s throat and he choked and sputtered. Morgan let up enough to allow Jensen to choke it down, then the canteen was back at his lips. “Don’t make this get ugly. It ain’t in the water, son.” Morgan’s voice was a soft growl. “Believe me or not, your call. But you will drink.”

This time when Morgan forced Jensen’s mouth open, Jensen gave in and swallowed greedily, and licked his lips after. He needed the water to survive, and he couldn’t stop Morgan right now, anyway.

“You gotta do your business?”

Jensen shook his head wearily, looking away again. Morgan helping him with his ablutions, yet another humiliation he wanted to avoid as long as possible.

“Okay then, back on the road.” Morgan helped lever Jensen to his feet, and then shouldered his own pack. The sharp tug on Jensen’s collar had him stumbling forward once again.

: : :

Morgan’s blurry shape was sprawled full length on the forest floor a few feet in front of where Jensen knelt. He was peering through his binoculars, out over the rise. An odd noise had been building for the last hour, and Morgan wanted to check it out. It would only be something bad, Jensen reasoned, nothing good ever happened in the Red Zone.

His head slumped forward on his chest and Jensen fought to keep his eyes open. He’d been getting steadily more tired as the afternoon progressed. Right now he could easily curl up on the forest floor and fall asleep right there for the next twenty four hours.

“Shit!”

Morgan hurriedly crawled back through the underbrush toward Jensen.

“We got ourselves a whole fucking herd coming our way. Thousands of them.”

Jensen cocked his head, listening carefully he realized that the low sound he’d been hearing all morning was starting to resolve itself into something recognizable. Closer now he could just barely make out the birdlike caws and snuffles of Zeke in the distance… A lot of Zeke. Coming straight toward them according to Morgan.

“I-I thought what you gave me made us safe.” Jensen whispered. Zeke were notoriously sensitive to sound. They could probably already hear their hearts beating from a mile away.

“Yeah, in small groups. But I’m not sure I trust our jizz shield when it’s a thousand of them and we’d be passing through them for hours right around when you need topping off again. Better to find higher ground and wait them out.

Not quite understanding what that mean Jensen simply nodded wearily. He’d only seen a few larger herds, mostly from the safety of a helicopter. To be surrounded by thousands of walking dead for hours sounded like a death sentence to him. It was only a matter of time until they smelled blood, or picked up their scent, no matter how strong the shot protecting them. Suddenly the itchy, flaking layer of jizz covering his body didn’t feel thick enough.

Morgan hefted his pack and gazed around.

“There, that’s it, that mutanted oak, it’s big enough, that’s for sure. We climb high enough to that fork and we should be able to strap ourselves in for the night and wait it out for as long as it takes.”

Morgan tugged on Jensen’s leash, urging him to his feet. Jensen stumbled as he rose, and Morgan steadied him. “Just another little while, baby, first you gotta take a leek and then we can climb that sucker then you can sleep all you want.”

: : :

Jensen stood wearily at the base of the tree and looked up. He grimaced in distaste, the phantom feel of Morgan’s roving hands as he’d pulled Jensen’s cock out and helped him piss, still on him. The massive tree was more like one of the giant sequoia’s of the pre-RΩAR world than a traditional oak. The thing was a beast, spanning almost twenty-five feet across at its base, another surprise created by the virus as its mutations spread to the plant world. At least they hadn’t ended up with killer, walking trees, Jensen mused, not yet, anyway.

Already, he could easily hear the moans and caws of the herd as they approached. He and Morgan were starting to run out of time. The thick rope Morgan had tied around his waist had seemed substantial enough at first, but now, faced with the prospect of forcing his drugged limbs to climb, even with Morgan’s help, it all seemed pretty daunting.

“Come on, boy. One step at a time.” Morgan called out from the safety of his perch overhead, giving the rope an experimental tug. He had already stowed their gear on lower limbs. It wasn’t like Zeke could climb that easily, but given the right reason, and hungry enough, they could claw their way up each other's bodies into towering stacks to get to what they wanted.

Morgan started to pull in earnest and Jensen forced himself to reach up toward the nearest limb to help in his ascent. Morgan had even freed his hands, seemingly unworried that Jensen might try to escape. Much good it would do him now, with the herd closing in, and Jensen so bone-deep tired. Whatever Morgan had given him had slowly drained him of every last erg of energy, until he was the equivalent of a human dishrag right now.

Jensen shook his head angrily. He could do this, he wasn’t some witless civvy, he was a trained Marine. He couldn’t just lie down and wait for Zeke to stumble over him and snack on his sorry ass. With a grunt, he pulled himself up onto the nearest limb. The next fifteen minutes were the longest in Jensen’s life. He alternated from panting and winded to near blacking out as Morgan slowly helped winch him up, one limb at a time, until he reached JDM’s perch. Morgan had found the perfect spot in the tree, where the man-thick limbs diverged from the central trunk, forked off into four different directions, forming the perfect hollow to take refuge in.

Completely boneless by the time Morgan hefted his sorry ass up the last foot or so, Jensen had never been so glad to stop moving in his life.

Morgan pulled and tugged on Jensen until he was pushed forward, sprawled over one of the wide branches. Morgan had covered the limb with one of their blankets, and Jensen groaned as he let his body collapse onto the gently upward-sloping surface. Too tired to even worry about the twenty-some-odd foot drop below.

Jensen grunted when Morgan grabbed one of his sore and abraded wrists, then sighed in relief when he slathered it with a cooling cream and started to wrap the bruised flesh in soft cotton strips, then repeating the action on Jensen’s other wrist.

“Can’t have these wrists torn up, Green Eyes, gotta take better care of my Get Out of Jail Free card,” Morgan chuckled near his ear. Monkey-like, surprisingly limber for a man his age, Morgan swung down onto a lower limb. Jensen was surprised to feel the sudden tightening of one of the ubiquitous zip ties as it closed over his bandaged wrists.

“I know you’re not in to the niceties and all but, I think you forgot the pillow and little chocolate.” Jensen wheezed, barely able to keep his eyes open. He tried to tug his hands free to no effect. He was now pinned lying prone on the stout limb supporting him, hugging the tree with his bound hands. “So damn tired,” Jensen mumbled, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Morgan climbed back up into the wide saddle of the tree and patted Jensen’s ass.

“Speaking of, it’s just about time sunshine. Gotta keep my boy nice and full.”

“Shouldn’t there be an easier solution than this?” Jensen growled wearily. He rubbed his cheek against the blanket-covered limb.

A sharp slap to his ass had Jensen rearing up. _“Whatthefuck?”_

“Gotta eat, Green Eyes, then you can nod off. I can get everything I need done after that on my own. Now, open wide, boy.”

Blinking Jensen opened his mouth as Morgan thrust a meal tube in past his lips. Jensen rolled his eyes. At least the military meal tubes were better than the dry chewy jerky Morgan had been pawning off on him all day. Jensen sucked in carefully and was surprised by the taste of meatloaf. He hummed in approval and Morgan laughed.

“Yeah, thought you’d like that. I took one for the team and had the beef stroganoff.”

Jensen shuddered, it was common knowledge that the meal tube version of beef stroganoff was the next best thing to eating cardboard.

“See how much I love you, Green Eyes? Now eat up. Daddy’s got work to do.”

As Jensen sucked on his meal tube he could hear the first wave of advance Zeke stumbling through the undergrowth below. He shivered as the air grew heavy with the stench of their rotting flesh. Appetite effectively killed he had to force himself to nurse down the last of his meat tube. Morgan was right, he needed to keep up his strength, if nothing else, to be able to kill the Special Ops bastard himself. A series of birdlike chitters started to echo through the trees and Jensen nodded in relief, glad they had gotten safely off the ground before the herd arrived.

: : :

For the second time that day a sharp sting in his hip and the quiet hiss of a medgun woke him.

“You done?” Morgan’s voice was close to his ear and Jensen reared up, or tried to, but his arms were still tied around the jutting limb of the oak.

Morgan slipped the now empty meat tube from Jensen’s mouth and nudged his canteen against Jensen’s lips. “Drink, you need to keep hydrated.”

Not even bothering to argue, Jensen drank eagerly, nudging at the canteen like a baby calf. Water spilled over his face in cooling trickles soothing the heat radiating off his skin. He swallowed down more of the water, he was so hot. He squirmed uncomfortably rubbing his cock up against the blanket covered limb.

“Time to get to work Green Eyes. The shot is strongest right after I give it. Perfect time for me to I milk you. We got to keep the scent fresh and make sure Zeke doesn’t take any interest in little old us and decide to start climbing trees.”

“Why am I so tired?” Jensen’s voice sounded gravel rough and hoarse.

“That would be: why am I so tired, sir,” Morgan corrected, busy unbuttoning Jensen’s fatigues and pulling them down low around his thighs. As Jensen’s ass was bared to the breeze, Morgan slapped it.

“Sir.” Jensen ground out, his eyelids drooping.

Morgan hummed in approval and leaned in between Jensen’s legs, effectively trapping them in place.

“It’s the serum. Drains a lot of energy from the body to keep pumping out a steady stream of pheromones, it doesn’t leave too much for you to run on. You’ll be feeling pretty tired until we get where we’re going in a couple of days, and can cut back on the dose a bit. Until then you need to suck it up. Better than being Zeke meat.”

Morgan tore something and a cool liquid was drizzled along the Jensen’s crease. Morgan’s his fingers were on his ass, following the slick trail and circling Jensen’s hole. Jensen bucked to the side to try and rid himself of Morgan’s touch, but the man only clamped down on his hip with his other hand as his fingers breached Jensen’s entrance.

“Says the one who isn’t being raped,” Jensen grunted, as Morgan thrust his fingers inside, searching around. Jensen was still sloppy and packed with come from his earlier fucking, but he wasn't used to this, and he was sore. “Fuck me,” Jensen moaned, as Morgan crooked his finger just right and touched down on Jensen’s prostate, lighting him up.

“Yeah, I’m tryin’, Green Eyes, give an old man a minute.”

Morgan started to piston his fingers in an out of Jensen’s hole, rubbing across his prostate like he was looking for a genie in a lamp. Jensen cried, gritting his teeth in pain as Morgan pressed inside particularly roughly. “And how, exactly, does fucking me protect your sorry ass?”

Morgan eased up his attack, concentrating on scissoring him open as he answered the question. “Part of the charm of this little elixir, Green Eyes, not that I wouldn’t tap this sweet ass of yours for free, but if my scent is on you, in you, while you're on the shots, your body absorbs it and outputs a blended scent. Camouflage for both of us. Just think of what our Special Ops teams could accomplish with this kind of cover.”

Jensen’s mind whirled as confirmation of Morgan’s scheme sank in. If this serum went into mass production it would mean virtual slavery for the injected. “Fuck, there’s got to be a better way than this,” Jensen ground out, sweat covering his body as he started to shudder and moan under the force of Morgan’s thrusting digits.

Morgan leaned down, capturing his lips, biting and kissing at Jensen’s mouth. When he shoved his tongue inside, Morgan drove all rational thought from Jensen’s mind as he kicked in to overdrive jackhammering his fingers in and out of Jensen’s hole. Chuckling against Jensen’s lips Morgan’s other hand reached down to roughly strip Jensen’s cock.

Jensen found himself in a feedback loop, bucking back onto the invading digits, and thrusting forward into Morgan’s waiting hand. He bit his own tongue to swallow back his moans of pleasure, his cock fattening quickly, Morgan’s slick hand even more delicious than rutting against the prickly blanket beneath him.

Morgan’s magic fingers abruptly withdrew, both his hands snaking down under Jensen’s body to grasp his half-hard dick, and expertly roll a condom on before Jensen could blink in surprise. “Gotta save all those wigglers, boy. It’s what’s keepin’ us alive.”

With a final snap of the condom, Morgan’s hands moved back to grasp Jensen’s cheeks, easing them back. “Such a pretty sight, Green Eyes. Wish you could see how pretty you look, all wet and slick and needy.” Jensen moaned in protest, but the blunt head of Morgan’s cock was already nudging at Jensen’s entrance. Morgan groaned as he pushed in, not stopping until his dick was deep in Jensen’s ass. Jensen grunted in pain. Morgan wasn’t small and he wasn’t gentle, his thrusts merciless as he shoved Jensen up and down against the limb of the oak like a ragdoll.

At Jensen’s cry of pain, Morgan changed his angle and set up a blistering pace, tapping Jensen’s prostate with frightening regularity. Jensen wanted to scream in frustration, to roll away, not just lie there taking what Morgan dished out.

In no time Morgan was crying out, warm seed jetting deep in Jensen’s channel and in spite himself, it triggered Jensen’s own release.

Panting, still buried deep inside Jensen, Morgan blanketed him with his body, breath huffing in his ear. “Fuck yeah, baby. You’re one sweet ride.” Morgan licked a path along Jensen’s jaw. “I’ll just rest here a bit before we go again. Feel free to sleep, sweet cheeks. I don’t really need you with me.” Jensen could hear the smirk in Morgan’s voice and he had the irrational desire to strip the skin from the man’s face.

Unfortunately, it was all too true, the fresh dose making Jensen’s eyelids grow heavy almost immediately. He drifted off just as Morgan started to harden again inside him. Without withdrawing, Morgan reached down under Jensen’s body and roughly stripped the filled condom off his cock. He rolled on another, and even that mild touch of Morgan’s hand had Jensen’s dick struggling to rise. Jensen shook his head at the madness of it all.

Far below them the full mass of the herd had reached their locations, shuffling and dragging their decomposing bodies through the forest below. As he fell asleep, the heat and stench off the packed bodies started to waft its way up through the limbs of the giant oak. From experience, Jensen knew the herd would take hours, maybe days, to pass. Days at Morgan’s mercy, being alternately drugged or fucked within an inch of his life, how was he going to get the upper hand on this bastard?

: : :

Comments Always Appreciated ^^


	4. RΩAR, JDM/JA, AU, NC-17 [ ROAR ]

: : :

Jensen glanced anxiously over his shoulder to check on Morgan. Fortunately the older man was still snoring softly against one of the thick boughs of the mutated oak.

Undiscovered for the present, Jensen went back to carefully rubbing his zip tied hands back and forth on the rough bark. The sound of the plastic ticking against the tree was barely audible over the soft moans and grunts of Zeke down below.

The sun had only started to peek over the horizon, sending soft tendrils of light through the oak's thick canopy of leaves. Jensen knew he had very little time before Morgan woke. It was their third day stranded in the tree. The herd below them was one of the largest Jensen had ever seen, and with no end in sight, it looked like it might still be another few days before they finished passing through.

Each day had started the same, with Morgan giving Jensen a shot before proceeding to fuck him several times throughout the day. But unlike the first few days Jensen had been Morgan’s captive, there was no secondary shot in the evening. It meant that each day Jensen awoke more alert than the day before. Today he was even able to make out detail in the edges of the leaves overhead.

It seemed one shot a day couldn’t quite cut it. He wondered if Morgan’s supply of the drug was running low. Up until now Jensen wouldn’t have been able to co-ordinate his limbs well enough for the fine motor control needed to cut through the zip tie. Jensen swore as a rough chunk of bark dug into his abraded wrist and blood trickled into his palm. He quickly rubbed it against the tree. All he needed was for a drop of blood to land on one of the Zeke horde below and start a feeding frenzy. Fortunately, the cut was shallow and stopped bleeding almost immediately, and Jensen could resume his careful scraping motions.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the blanket covered limb he was pinned to. He stank and his skin was stiff with flaking come that Morgan had rubbed over his back and ass cheeks, to amplify the cloaking pheromones. Right about now, he would kill for a shower. No, scratch that, he’d kill Morgan, then he’d shower. With renewed vigor, he resumed sawing away on his bonds.

The drug Morgan used forced Jensen’s body to produce the pheromones that kept them shielded from Zeke’s notice. If Jensen had his way, though, that was all about to change. The soft snap of the stressed plastic giving way was lost in the background noise. A feral grin lighting his face, Jensen squinted, his vision still slightly blurred, as the zip tie fluttered to the ground.

Jensen’s arms dangled weakly on either side of the wide tree limb, dead weight after being bound for so long. His shoulders screamed at the change in position, and he had to bite back a moan of pain. Pins and needles shot along his arms, and he forced his numb fingers to move. If he couldn’t regain enough feeling in his hands, he’d never have a chance against Morgan. Long minutes later, his circulation began to return and the pins and needle sensation retreated. He concentrated on tensing and releasing different groupings of muscles in his body, so he’d be better able to move. Then all he needed was to bide his time.

As if on cue, Morgan grunted, leather creaking as he sat up and rubbed at his face. “Remind me never to sleep in a tree again, will ya, Green Eyes? Fucking bark starts to digs into your ass after a while.”

The scuff of Morgan’s boots as he stood had Jensen’s shoulders tensing. “Of course there is some compensation. A great view.” Jensen had to force himself to relax in spite of the leering tone of Morgan’s voice as he tugged down his fly. “If I didn’t have to piss like a racehorse, I’d be all over that.” A soft chuckle and then the sound of Morgan’s stream hitting the leaves below them.

“What about you, sunshine? You sleep well? Must be great being drugged to the gills. Sleep like a log, even spread out over this uncomfortable stump.”

Jensen readied himself as Morgan finished and zipped up. He could hear the man rooting through his duffel, and the soft hiss of the hypo gun being loaded. He knew from experience that Morgan would be moving toward him.

With a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm the blurry mass of Morgan’s approach, Jensen braced his hands against the tree limb and kicked back with both feet. There was soft woof of breath as Jensen’s bare feet connected with Morgan’s crotch instead of his gut, then a grunt of pain and Morgan was flung back to land on his ass, his head cracking against the limb he’d slept propped against.

Clambering up on all fours Jensen scrambled after him, his hands grappling blindly for the hand holding the hypo spray.

“Still got some fight I haven’t fucked out of you, boy? We can fix that.” Snarling, Morgan rushed to sit, intercepting Jensen’s charge, large hands grabbing Jensen around the torso.

Any further chance for Morgan to speak was abruptly cut off as Jensen barreled into him, slamming Morgan backward as he pressed his forearm against the man’s throat. Jensen blinked when he realized he’d succeeded in pinning the man against one of the tree’s broad limbs. It didn’t stop Morgan from struggling, though. He surged forward with surprising strength. Jensen could just barely make out the silvery glimmer of the hypo gun still in Morgan’s hand.

Suddenly on the defensive, Jensen found himself slammed on his back in the shallow, bowl-like expanse where four of the mutant oak's huge limbs divided before reaching skyward. Shoving blindly at Morgan, he managed to catch his arm and, with a desperate roar, rolled them so Morgan was beneath him.

Morgan’s free hand clamped around Jensen’s throat, twisting the zip tie collar around his neck with one meaty fist. Spots appeared in Jensen’s blurry vision as his air was slowly cut off. There was a clatter, and suddenly two hands were at Jensen’s throat. Some dim part of Jensen’s mind recognized the sound as the hypo spray dropping to the tree’s platform. He thrashed his hand around wildly, searching for the hypo as Morgan’s voice purred seductively in his ear. “Stop now, boy. Behave, and we can put this all behind us.”

Jensen’s grasping hand finally, miraculously trailed over the hypo and with a fierce grin blossoming on his face, Jensen grasped it and jabbed the hypo into Morgan’s neck. “What the hell? What the fuck do you think you’re doing Green Eyes?” Morgan’s hands dropped away from Jensen as he grabbed at his own throat. Finally free, and able to breathe again, Jensen coughed and gagged, gasping in lungsful of air. “Just returning the favour…master.”

Morgan staggered to his feet, but soon slumped weakly against one of the broad limbs as the shot started to take effect. Jensen could hear Morgan’s breath huffing in and out like a freight train as he struggled against the drug's effects.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Jensen drawled, rubbing his bruised throat, “I’ll look after you the same way you looked after me.”

Crawling to Morgan’s duffel, Jensen dropped the hypo gun inside and rooted around for a few moments, finally rising triumphantly with several zip ties in hand. He shuffled over to Morgan and shoved the weakly resisting man’s legs together and zip tied them. He ran his hand up Morgan’s body, batting aside Morgan’s wildly swinging arms, eventually finding and grabbing onto his jacket collar. Ruthlessly, he smashed Morgan’s head against the tree, stunning him for the moment. He then shoved Morgan’s sideways, pressing his shoulder into the tree and holding him there with a well placed knee as he secured Morgan’s arms behind his back.

Morgan roared, “Let me the fuck go! How dare you, you ungrateful little bitch? I should have left you there to be eaten!” Incensed, he twisted like a bucking bronco in a last ditch effort to break free, but Jensen held on, gritting his teeth as he tugged the second zip tie closed.

Exhausted by his efforts, Jensen pushed back from the writhing, screaming man and folded against a limb on the opposite side of the tree. Morgan continued to struggle and twist for a few moments as Jensen watched, his hands folded over his knees as the blurry form continued to wriggle and jerk. Eventually the stream of vitriol coming out of Morgan’s mouth trailed off and, dimly, Jensen realized the man had passed out, exhausted, the first course of the drug easily overcoming him.

Jensen leaned his head back and stared up into the dappled canopy of leaves overhead. Zeke’s volume below had increased. Their little dust up and Morgan’s voice had drawn a crowd. Jensen swallowed, cursing himself for not thinking to silence the man. Breathing shallowly, he tried to will the herd away.

Who knew how long the protection of his shot would last, or Morgan’s would take to kick in? Did he have to fuck the man to make this all work?

Jensen’s mind turned with a million questions, foremost amongst them, what the fuck did he do now?

The red glare of sunlight through his closed eyelids was what woke him. Jensen squinted into the brightness. The sun was at full strength overhead, he’d been asleep for several hours. He blinked until things came back into focus.

Perfect focus.

Jensen scrubbed at his eyes again, but there was no mistake — he was awake and could see perfectly, blessedly free of the effects of the drug. His eyes went instantly to Morgan, still slumped on the other side of the tree.

Morgan’s head jerked up as he heard Jensen move. He tilted his head, tracking Jensen’s movements. Jensen sucked in a surprised breath as he caught a glance of Morgan’s hazed over pupils, the debilitating effects of the serum all too obvious.

Jensen laced his fingers tightly together and stared grimly at Morgan. “You keep your voice down, or I will gag you. I don’t want ten thousand Z’s crawling up our ass.”

Morgan chucked, a little dryly. “Yeah sure, you’re the big boss now.”

“That’s fucking right, keep that in mind next time you turn up the volume.” Jensen leaned over to grab Morgan’s duffel and hauled it closer. He needed a gag ready if Morgan did act up. He found a soft, wash worn t-shirt toward the bottom of Morgan’s kit, that would work. He also found Morgan’s stash of airplane booze. Grimly he twisted off the top of one at random and downed it. The sharp bite of the whisky going down made him cough, but it warmed his belly and calmed his nerves.

“Where the fuck did you think you were taking me?”

At Morgan’s studied silence Jensen cracked open another bottle. He had to admit, trapped in a tree with a psycho kidnapper, surrounded by one of the largest herds of Zeke he’d ever seen, the idea of getting drunk off his ass held a certain appeal. He watched Morgan as he downed the second bottle.

“Do I actually need to fuck you, or is it enough simply to come on your body?”

Again, Morgan said nothing. Jensen’s anger started to boil and he swallowed another bottle down before rising and grabbing Morgan by the collar, twisting him onto his side as he wrestled with the belt to Morgan’s fatigues. Morgan grunted softly as Jensen shoved him onto his belly and proceeded to yank his pants down to his knees.

Jensen gave Morgan’s ass a sharp slap as he straddled his thighs. With the residual drug in his system, his cock was already filling in his hand, some conditioned response Morgan had trained into him. Fisting himself, he rubbed the leaking head of his dick against Morgan’s crease. Jensen bit back a moan of pleasure at the sensation of the soft skin of Morgan’s ass against the sensitive head of his cock. Growling, he grabbed Morgan by the back of the neck and shoved the man’s face into the bark of the tree, alcohol fueled rage zinging through him. “Do I need to fuck you to make this work, or not? Unlike you, I don’t want to have to rape you, if there’s a better way, time to speak up is now.”

“What, scared if you tried it you might actually have to admit you liked it?” Morgan snorted derisively. “Go ahead, Green Eyes, I haven’t had a good dicking since they took Jay. You look about his size where it counts. It would probably make you feel really good to be the one doing the fucking for a change, so go ahead. You already managed part one and shot me up, now finish the job and stuff that sweet dick of yours in as far as it will go, and show me who’s boss.” Morgan pushed his ass back against Jensen, where he was rocking enticingly against him.

Jensen roared and pulled back Morgan’s cheeks and stared down at his tight pink hole. Jensen spat, a wet glob of phlegm landing on Morgan’s twitching entrance, and he rubbed his cockhead around the tightly clenched ring of skin. Morgan might talk a good game, but he wasn’t quite as open to all this as he made out. Jensen nudged his cock in and the tight clench of Morgan’s ass around his dick hurt. He bent his knee more to give him a bit more leverage to start working his way in and was a split second from raping Morgan before sanity returned.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you. Me raping your ass, so I’m no better than you.” Jensen jerked back, slapping Morgan’s cheek and leaving a vivid red handprint as the flesh jiggled. Morgan grunted, more from surprise than pain.

Jensen rose to a crouch, snarling. “Well fuck you Morgan! It wouldn’t surprise me if I don’t need to fuck you at all to make this shit work. I bet if I come all over your back, it’s all the same to the drug. I could fucking jizz all over you, coat you in the stuff and never have to resort to sinking to your level. ”

“But then what sweetheart? What’s your big plan? Do you even know where you are? How far you are from anything? Because I do. There’s just enough to get the two of us there in one piece. And I know exactly how far the remaining shots will last and what’s the most effective means of delivery. I’m not feeling the least bit suicidal, but maybe you are. So go ahead.”

“What the fuck is this insanity about, Morgan? Why are we going deeper into the Red zone instead of out of it?” Enraged, Jensen slammed Morgan’s head against the tree and rose shakily. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday and the booze had hit him hard. He ran his hand through his hair and crouched down and began to rifle through Morgan’s stash. He found only eight ampules. Shit, no wonder Morgan had cut him back to one a day.

He weighed them in his hand, certainly not enough to get them out of the Red Zone. This would give them only four days at the normal double dose, or if he stretched it, eight days travel. But would the lighter dose still keep Zeke away? Up in their tree where they weren’t in direct line of Zeke, the reduced dose made sense, but face to face…Jensen shivered.

Jensen leaned out over the heavy bough to check again, and the herd wasn’t getting any thinner. They could waste another day here waiting for Zeke to trail off, and then what? Drug Morgan until the stuff ran out, and then hope like hell they didn't run into another herd as they made a run for the Green or Yellow zone?

Before they’d been treed by the herd they’d been heading north. Jensen wasn’t sure exactly where they’d crashed, but he thought they might be somewhere in Montana, or Iowa. That put them a long way from Blue Zone in Austin, or Yellow in Cleveland.

It was only a guess, but he figured they were at least eight hundred to a thousand klicks from any kind of safely, and he could be off by hundreds of miles. Considering he’d be lucky to hike thirty-five or forty kilometers a day through the heavy underbrush, that would easily put him at least a month from anywhere, on foot. Without Morgan’s co-operation he didn’t even know where to start, and if he used the drug on the man, he’d only face the same problem again, five days from now.

“What kind of safety could you possibly think you were going to reach in five days? We’re hundreds of klicks from anywhere.” Jensen strode back to Morgan and stared down at him. Morgan rolled to his back with a slight wince and leered cockily up at Jensen. Morgan’s half-hard dick lay in a line along his thigh and Morgan seemed unperturbed that he was the one bound, with his pants around his ankles. Jensen knew from his own experience with the drug that Morgan couldn’t really make out his features, that Jensen was only a vague blur, but Morgan’s foggy pupils seemed to be burning a hole into Jensen’s soul.

“Only way you’re gonna find out what’s within a few days of here is to cut me loose, and bend over like a good little soldier, Green Eyes. Otherwise I don’t like your chances out there in the woods all alone after the drug runs out.”

Rage twisting through him, Jensen grabbed Morgan by the shirt and jerked his upright. “You’ll be right there with me when it does.”

Morgan laughed in his face, a deep belly laugh. Jensen stared at him, maddened as the laughter lines deepened around Morgan’s eyes.

“I’ve trained as a ranger all my life, and been making runs through these woods for the last three months. You don’t think I can ditch your newb ass and find my way to safety on my own? You better believe it, Green Eyes. Now cut me loose so we can get back to normal. You know you don’t have a chance on your own, son. The longer this goes on, the more I’m going to have to punish you, baby. You know that, right? How many folks have you met who made it out from this deep in the red zone?”

Jensen stared hard at Morgan and grabbed up the t-shirt he’d found earlier. He ripped it in half, rolling each piece into a coil. Grimly, he jerked Morgan’s fatigues up around his hips, tucking the man in, and then Jensen manhandled him onto his belly.

With a growl he snarled, “I’m not your baby,” and forced the rolled material past the man’s clenched teeth. He used the other twist of material to hog tie Morgan’s bound hands and feet together, leaving him raging behind his gag and rolling on the rough bark.

“I’d watch it, splinters are going to be a bitch, man,” Jensen cautioned as he grabbed up a handful of tiny booze bottles. Lowering himself to lean against an opposing limb, Jensen sucked the alcohol down. By the seventh little bottle, the sharp burn of it was no longer making his eyes water and he had a pleasant little buzz going on. Humming to himself, he leaned out to watch the passing herd. Absently noting the empty bottle he was holding, he held out his hand and let it drop. As if he’d planned it, the bottle landed perfectly on the top of a passing Zeke’s head. There was a wet slurping sound as it disappeared down through the rotted flesh of Zeke’s skull and the body slid to the ground. Jensen giggled insanely and hurried to suck back another before dropping the empty down onto another Zeke. This time the bottle glanced off Zeke’s shoulder and it kept shuffling by. The next bottle tore off the face of a passing Zeke, the bottle caught on the forehead and pulled the putrid flesh down so it hung like a mask around the skeletal face.

Feeling a little sick at the sight, Jensen slung himself back into the hollow of the tree and stared at Morgan until it grew too late to see the man in the dark. Jensen grabbed the blanket Morgan had spread out on the limb he’d been tied to the previous night and wrapped it around himself to ward off the cold.

He thought about Julie, his on again, off again girlfriend in Austin. Julie ran a small nightclub in the leisure sector of the city. Jensen had met her on open mic night when he and a couple of other ZTM mates had celebrated by going bar hopping at the end to a long mission. It was Chris who had gotten him up on stage, after he’d borrowed a couple of guitars from other G.I.s trying their luck on stage. Julie had approached him afterward, complimenting his voice, and he’d offered to buy her a drink. After some very obvious flirting they’d fumbled away from the table amid ribald comments from the guys, and slipped away to the back storeroom to make out.

Jensen remembered the soft, clean scent of her in his arms. The ease with which he lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around him. His cock, hard and aching as it pushed past the soft folds of her cunt to bury himself in her warm heat.

Jensen eased down the zipper on his own fatigues and took his cock out. It lay warm and heavy in his hand and Jensen started to strip himself as he pictured Julie that night, riding him as she leaned back against the wall of the storage room, her skin so silky and smooth as she undulated against him, making soft sounds that lingered in the corners of the dark room. “Oh, fuck yes, Jensen!” she gasped, the words punched out of her with each thrust of Jensen’s hips. Jensen moaned, bucking up into his own hand. In the moonlight, Morgan turned toward Jensen, clouded eyes staring blindly at him in the dark.

Jensen’s teeth worried at his bottom lip and he closed his eyes, shutting out Morgan and everything he represented. He remembered the sensation of power as he held Julie in his arms, but the image started to shift, blurred and changed. Jensen’s breathing grew ragged and his hand jerked more roughly than he’d intended over his weeping cock. He started to grunt in pleasure-pain, in time with his strokes.

The image in his head kept shifting until he was the one pushed up against the wall. There was the scrape of a rough beard across the tender skin of his collar bone, and hands bigger than his own pulled him back so his ass rubbed against the hard jut of Morgan’s cock in his tight fatigues.

Arousal shot through him and Jensen shoved his hand in his mouth to stifle his moan as he squeezed his cock, hand fapping frantically as his balls tightened. He tried to switch his mental image back to Julie and the soft, loving kisses she placed over his skin, but then there was the soft click of Morgan’s fly as he tugged it down and the warm press of Morgan’s cock against his hole. Jensen threw back his head with a moan as sharp teeth bit and sucked at his nipples and a broad tongue pushed its way into his mouth, mapping and claiming everything it touched.

Jensen didn’t even realize that his hand had reached back to push fingers into his tightly furled entrance. The sensation of those two rough digits, sloppy-wet now with spit as he pushed them inside was enough to banish Julie’s memory completely.

Panting, Jensen came with the image of Morgan’s smirking face looking down at him as he was breached, the blunt mushroom head forcing its way deep inside Jensen’s hole in one long smooth slide. The rumbling chuckle of Morgan’s voice against his skin as he started to pound into him. His sharp embarrassed yelp as Morgan hit that sparking place deep inside, and Jensen’s hand squeezed unconsciously around his own dick. His cock twitched and it was enough to tip him over the edge, ropes of jizz covering his hand and belly. “Ngh…” Jensen clenched his teeth in shame as he worked himself through his orgasm, milking his cock of every last bit of seed.

Slumping bonelessly against the tree, filthy and covered in his own release, Jensen allowed his eyelids to flutter closed. He knew what he was going to do now. It was just a matter if he could go through with it or not.

 

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Comments Always Appreciated ^^


	5. RΩAR, JDM/JA, AU, NC-17 [ ROAR ]

 

: : :

Jensen’s body was being jolted again and again, a too warm, heavy weight blanketed his back as he was jarred back and forth, impaled on warm flesh. At first the impacts were not unpleasant, short, careful, pumps against his body that set off tingling sparks inside him, but then the speed and strength picked up. His alcohol blunted senses made it difficult for him to understand what was happening, but gradually he became conscious of more detailed sensations and sounds, the low, guttural grunt that accompanied each harsh thrust and the percussive spank of skin slapping against skin.

He finally became fully conscious when he realized the grunts he was hearing were being pushed past his own lips as his body was rutted into. He felt a burning sensation against his chest and his face hurt; he shook his head in confusion. Blinking, Jensen tried to focus again, to orient himself, as he wondered why he was finding it hard to breathe. All he could remember was dropping little bottles on Zeke and then nothing…. He blinked repeatedly but the world stayed bathed in a soft fuzzy glow. His first clue that that was not going to change anytime soon was Morgan’s voice whispering in his ear.

“Good to see you made the right decision, Green Eyes. At least this way you have a chance of surviving this whole mess, maybe not in one piece, but surviving. The Doc is going to love you.”

The blanket Jensen had fallen asleep curled up in now only lay half under him and with each thrust Jensen’s chest and cheek were scraped by the rough bark beneath him. A warm trickle ran down Jensen’s cheek. He tried to wipe it away and realized Morgan had tied his arms together with some soft cloth behind his back. He inhaled sharply, remembering the decision he’d made the night before. It should have been no surprise to find himself bound again in the morning. The wet trickle continued to roll down the side of his face and finally touched his lips and a coppery taste blossomed on his lips, blood. Morgan seemed to notice at the same time and tsked, loosening the hand he had twisted in Jensen’s collar. Jensen sucked in a breath, grateful for the release of pressure on his windpipe.

“Oh, baby boy, I didn’t know you were being hurt.” Morgan grabbed Jensen around the waist and knelt up, bringing Jensen with him, so that he was half sitting, half leaning on Morgan’s lap. Morgan’s hand traveled across Jensen’s chest pinching his nipple teasingly. Morgan crooned, “Don’t you worry, I’ll get you all fixed up right after we’re done here.”

His arms wrapped around Jensen’s chest in a parody of a lover's embrace. Jensen hung limply in his grasp, the world spinning, as Morgan licked a wet line up his throat. “You joined us just in time, Green Eyes. _Nngh_ , close, so close.” Distantly he realized that Morgan was stripping his cock. Jensen smirked in the satisfaction that he was still only half hard, the alcohol obviously interfering with the shot.

Thinking along the same lines, Morgan’s voice sounded strained when he growled out. “Gave you your shot, you should be hard by now, Green Eyes. Guess we’ll just have to go this round without you.” Morgan began to jackhammer into Jensen, swiveling his hips as he pushed deeper into his body, huffing in Jensen’s ear like a freight train. Close as he was, Morgan continued to haphazardly strip Jensen’s cock, to coax his disinterested cock to hardness. Sore from the unwanted stimulation Jensen began to struggle, and reluctantly Morgan released him seconds before his tensed, his body going bow tight as he came deep inside Jensen’s body.

Blissed out, Morgan’s hold loosened and, bound as he was, Jensen started to topple forward. Before he did a complete header, Morgan grabbed him again, easing him down so that his shoulder took much of his weight. Morgan, still half hard, stayed buried deep inside him.

Morgan’s hand rubbed possessively over Jensen’s bare back. He wanted to shrug off Morgan’s touch but he was too dizzy to do more but lay there. He heard the distinctive click of a lighter behind him and then moments later the soft exhale of smoke from Morgan’s cigarette. Jensen’s finger’s twitched; he’d love a cigarette right now, though he rarely indulged, he tried to focus his attention elsewhere, listening to the low moans of Zeke, the herd still shuffling past far below.

Morgan patted his shoulder companionably. “If you were wondering, you made the right decision, son. Only five days worth of serum, and not knowing where you're going in the red zone was a death sentence. Nice touch, untying me last night. It was like Christmas this morning finding you all spread out for me ready and willing and all. Almost makes me not want to punish you for that stunt you pulled, you naughty boy. But I will punish you, just maybe not here, out in the open.” Morgan blew out another stream of smoke, Jensen could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Yeah, I want to wait until I have you back at base where I can do what I want with you.”

Morgan’s voice was a low growl and Jensen cringed at the idea of being at this man’s mercy more than he already was.

“Is that where you keep the spare bag-o-dicks for when you can’t get it up old man?”

“Oh no, baby, I got all you need right here, but I have other toys we can play with there.” Morgan rolled one of Jensen’s nipples between his fingers, pinching and pulling until Jensen whined in protest.

“Let go of me you fucker.”

“You could have gone Green Eyes, with or without me. Fact that you’re still here says a lot about my particular brand of charm, now don’t it”

Jensen snorted in disgust. Really though, had he ever had any choice? Wandering around the red zone with Morgan with no real destination in sight…At least if he got to this base, he could bide his time until he had a chance to bust. One thing was for sure, when that happened he’d take equipment and supplies and a fucking map, enough to make it to safety in one piece. Until then it would be more of the same shit Morgan had been shoveling since the plane crashed.

Another exhale of cigarette smoke, and Morgan’s hand began to tug on Jensen’s cock again. Jensen grunted in protest as Morgan’s fingers ran along his length and squeezed his battered dick. “ _Nngh_ , it ain’t a fucking joystick you know, take it easy on the goods.” Morgan laughed and released his cock to only to begin rolling Jensen’s balls in his hand like they were toys. Jensen tried to turn on his side away from Morgan, but skewered by Morgan’s cock, one strong fist pinning his bound hands in place stopped him from getting very far away.

“Wanna drag?” Morgan asked companionably as he thrust a blurry hand in front of Jensen’s face. He could smell the distinctive scent of tobacco and his mouth went dry. Jensen licked his dry, cracked lips, confused by the random change of subject. He considered blowing Morgan off, but he hadn’t had a real cigarette for years. “Fuck yeah,” Jensen croaked.

“Yeah?” He could hear the smile in Jensen’s voice, dread coiling in Jensen’s gut. The hand retreated and he could hear Morgan inhaling deeply. Then Morgan was hauling him back up onto his knees and twisting Jensen’s head to the side. Morgan leaned in close and suddenly their mouths were locked together, Morgan’s tongue burrowing between the seam of Jensen’s lips. He let them open, and Morgan exhaled, forcing a long burst of nicotine-infused smoke into him. Jensen started to choke and hack, swallowing most of it instead of inhaling.

“Take it easy boy, slow it down, nice deep breaths, okay?” Morgan directed, his wide fingers running down the side of Jensen’s face before his head retreated once more and Jensen could hear him inhaling. This time when Morgan’s lips touched his, Jensen was ready for him and his lips parted eagerly. He closed his eyes as he sucked in the wispy stream of smoke, the half remembered bitter taste of tobacco on his tongue familiar and strangely calming.

Morgan cupped the side of Jensen’s head, patted him, as he took another drag on the smoke himself. He started to chuckle as he began to harden again inside Jensen. Cigarette dangling from his lips Morgan pulled Jensen back tighter against his chest and began to leisurely thrust inside Jensen again. Jensen didn’t think it was any accident that Morgan’s cock brushed against Jensen’s prostate on almost every pass. The bastard wasn’t one to give up easily.

Jensen groaned as in spite of himself his cock started to fill this time. The booze he’d drowned in the night before was obviously not proof against the drug, which shortened the normal refractory period of both partners. Humiliation rolled through him as Morgan laughed, wrapping a plastic baggie around Jensen’s cock and starting to strip him in earnest.

“Knew you’d come around, baby. All you needed was some fresh lovin’ to get you back on track. Now we’ll just get you all marked up nice and pretty so we can start our day.”

“Shut up and give me another drag of that smoke.” Jensen panted, as he squeezed his eyes closed and bore down on Morgan’s cock buried inside him. The quicker he could get Morgan off the faster this would be over.

A sharp twist of his nipple had Jensen’s eyes blindly fluttering open. “Oh no you don’t, we come together baby.” Morgan leaned his head around and this time instead of sealing his lips over Jensen’s he simply blew a steady stream of smoke toward Jensen’s eagerly open mouth, making him strain to catch it. Jensen’s contortions had the secondary effect of him clamping down harder around Morgan’s length and he cursed himself the fool when Morgan groaned appreciatively.

“Good boy.” Morgan husked out and rocked up harder into Jensen as reward for his efforts.

Gritting his teeth, Jensen let his eyes drift closed again and tried to picture Julie beside him on the rumpled bed, her red hair catching the morning light. But her shining face kept being replaced by dark hazel eyes that regarded him with mocking laughter. He came, gasping and cursing Morgan’s name.

That night, staring up at the blurry night sky while Morgan snored beside him, his arm hot and oppressive across Jensen’s chest, he had a sudden urge to visit home. He’d been too long in Green Zone with its overcast nights and city lights. He wanted to lie out on a hot Texas night and watch the million stars that filled the sky, so crisp and clear it felt like you could touch them.

 

It wasn’t until later the next morning that Morgan finally announced the coast was clear, that the last of the herd had finally passed them by. By that point they were down to three remaining shots and Jensen had started to worry that Morgan had no plan, that it had all been a bluff. But then the herd had finally cleared and Morgan had begun to pack their gear for the coming journey.

Later, as Jensen knelt at the base of the tree, Morgan’s release slowly trickling out of his swollen, battered hole, all he knew was that he was how grateful he was for the soft bonds that protected his wrists, chafed red by the ubiquitous zip ties. The trip down from the monster oak had been hell. Morgan refused to release his arms and insisted on lowering him like so much freight over the side. The most Jensen could do was use his feet to try and control his descent through the giant limbs.

“Now don’t go anywhere, Green Eyes.” Morgan quipped as his blurry form untied the ropes used to lower Jensen before disappearing up the side of the tree to move the rest of their kit to the ground. Jensen bit back a wiseass reply, too sore and tired to get into it with Morgan right now. Over the last twenty-four hours, Jensen had been fucked and had Morgan come on his face and body and down his throat any number of times. Gross as his dry and flaking skin felt, even more humiliating was the knowledge that Morgan had stashed his own release in a series of baggies in preparation for their trip.

“You coming with me or not, Green Eyes?” The rough shake of Morgan’s hand on his shoulder jolted Jensen awake. He hadn’t even realized he was falling asleep, the drug draining him of all energy.

Morgan helped him to his feet and Jensen stood there, listing unevenly. He waited for Morgan to sling his duffel over his shoulder, but Morgan only pulled on his own knapsack. Finally, Jensen remembered how to speak. “My duffel?” his voice was hoarse and rough from disuse, and the face fucking Morgan had given him earlier that morning.

“No need Green Eyes, we’re down so many supplies I can carry it all myself. All you got to do is put one foot in front of the other and keep up with me.” Morgan was suddenly close, his hand cupping Jensen’s jaw gently. “You think you can do that for me, baby?”

Unspeaking, Jensen twisted his head out of his grip and Morgan laughed. “Ah, there’s my boy. Haven’t managed to break you yet, have I?” Morgan’s hand snaked out to grab Jensen’s thick collar and attach Jensen’s leash to the heavy D-link nestled at the base of his throat. “Okay, daylight’s burning, we can pick this up again later.” Morgan tugged on the leash and dutifully Jensen trudged forward.

The journey was strenuous if uneventful, the ground becoming gradually more rocky as the incline grew steeper. Heavy, dense bush surrounded them on all sides, and Morgan stopped regularly to check his compass and map. With the herd behind them, they only ran across a few Zeke, stragglers who, thanks to the drug, were uninterested in them. Lunchtime found Jensen falling asleep as Morgan fucked him over a fallen tree.

He didn’t think it was his imagination that the drug was taking more out of him with every dose. Sure, the terrain was tough going but Jensen had gone farther on far less in the past. Morgan said nothing, but that alone was disturbing as Jensen struggled to keep pace. That evening Morgan found another tree for them to take refuge in, if Morgan fucked him again that night Jensen wasn’t even aware of it, having passed out as soon as Morgan was done shoveling his share of the dehydrated rations past his lips.

Morning found Morgan’s blurry form hovering over him. Squinting, Jensen could make out the glint of the medgun in the man’s hand. Morgan’s hand ran over Jensen’s chest and came to rest on Jensen’s flaccid dick covered by his fatigues. It had been becoming more and more difficult for Jensen to get hard, even with the shots. “Fuck kid, this stuff is taking the starch out of you fast, ain’t it? We’re so close though, if the weather holds and we don’t run into another herd we should make it to base today. If not I’ll see if we can survive with you on only a half dose tomorrow. Doc will have my ass for changing the course of the meds, but frankly, I don’t have the energy to carry you unconscious through these woods, and we only have one shot left, anyway.” Morgan fiddled with the gun and then Jensen winced at the sharp pinch of the injection needle at his hip.

“We’ll give you the shot and, see how it goes. With any luck, scouts should spot us today and help escort us in. Which means they can carry your heavy ass.”

“You don’t get us there in one piece, I’ll kick your ass.” Jensen panted, the world growing fuzzier as the shot kicked in.

“Come on Tactical, let’s see what you Zed squad pussies have in you.”

Gritting his teeth, and with Morgan’s help, Jensen was able to push to his feet. Morgan’s firm tug on his leash set him on the exhausting task of placing one foot in front of the other.

When Morgan announced a lunch stop, Jensen sank gratefully to his knees, then collapsed on the sun warmed rock where he currently stood. The ground had been growing steadily more rocky, with fewer and fewer trees, making climbing with his hands bound behind him increasingly precarious.

Jensen was so tired he couldn’t even stay awake long enough for Morgan to feed him, he simply closed his eyes and nodded off.

Someone shaking persistently on his shoulder forced his eyelids open. Blindly he looked up at the hazy blue sky before Morgan’s blurry outline came into view.

“Gotta keep going, Green Eyes and for that you need your strength. Come on, sit up.” Morgan’s voice was gentle, tinged with something he hadn’t heard from the man before. Jensen thought it might be regret or guilt, but then shook his head, this was Mad Morgan he was talking about, the man who had kidnapped him and ruthlessly raped him again and again throughout this journey.

Sitting up was easier, thanks in part to the fact that Morgan had tied his hands in front of him while he slept. Blinking, Jensen gazed down at the hazy outline of his hands. With them in front of him, it would be easier for Jensen to break his falls. He’d taken a serious header into the bush when he'd tripped earlier this morning. Only the soft underbrush kept him from a bonus concussion. The rocky ground here made that kind of misstep potentially deadly.

“Come on, I found a mango yogurt slurpee at the bottom of my duffel and it’s got your name on it.” Morgan pressed the tetra packed ration into Jensen’s hands with the straw already inserted. It took a couple of tries for Jensen to get the straw into his mouth, but he was grateful for the chance to feed himself for a change. Though the sweet malty liquid soothed his abraded throat, his appetite ran out just a little over half way through the protein drink. Morgan slipped it out of his limp fingers and set it aside.

Jensen tensed, after lunch was usually when Morgan ‘refreshed his marks,’ the nice way of saying he was raped again. Sore and exhausted, Jensen simply wanted to get it over with, and taking matters into his own hands, he started to roll to his hands and knees and assume the position, but Morgan’s hard grip on his shoulder halted him.

“S’okay son, we can use some of the bagged samples to get you slicked up this time, then push on. Stay,” Morgan ordered walking over to his pack to root for one of the baggies. Numb with exhaustion, Jensen sank back down on his knees and waited.

 

“Hold still now.” Careful, like it was something precious, Morgan spread Jensen’s cold spunk over his chest and arms. The soothing actions lulled Jensen into a relaxed, half awake state. Jensen didn’t even bat an eye when he heard the zip of Morgan’s fatigues or the man’s grunts as he started to strip his cock. Too exhausted to protest, Jensen’s lips fell open obediently when Morgan pressed the broad mushroom head of his dick up against his lips, offering no resistance when Morgan first nudged in his thumb, hooking it in so that Jensen couldn’t bite down before feeding his swollen dick to him an inch at a time. Morgan didn’t stop until he was buried deep down Jensen’s throat, until his balls rubbed against Jensen’s chin.

By now Jensen’s gag reflex had been thoroughly squashed, but he still required air. When he started to pull back, Morgan’s free hand grabbed him by the back of his head, taking control of the action. When Morgan pulled him back far enough Jensen knew from experience to suck in as much air as he could before Morgan shoved him back down over his cock. Jensen let his eyelids drift shut, he knew all he could to do was simply hold on and breathe when he could. His hands twisted futilely in his bonds. If he tried to make a play for Morgan’s gun he’d be batted down in seconds. He was too weak and confused by the drug to do much of anything.

Minutes later, Morgan pulled his swollen cock from Jensen’s mouth and, after a few additional strokes, came all over Jensen’s face and chest. His hand rubbed absently, working his spunk into Jensen’s skin, mixing it with the mess of Jensen’s own release Morgan had rubbed in earlier.

Morgan zipped himself back up and, instead of the usual rough tug on his leash signaling their break was over, Morgan unexpectedly swooped down and pressed his lips against Jensen’s. The salty bitter tang of his own slick on Jensen’s lips didn’t seem to bother the man. Morgan licked into Jensen’s mouth, teeth and tongue clashing as Jensen found himself on the receiving end of a suddenly frantic kiss.

The sound of hands clapping had Morgan and Jensen springing apart in surprise. There was the quick grapple as Morgan reached for his weapon and swiveled, crouching, as Jensen was simultaneously shoved to the ground.

An unfamiliar, dry voice spoke. “He looks good with his lips wrapped around your dick. Like some kind of porn star.”

Jensen tensed, and then when nothing happened immediately, craned his head to see past Morgan’s bulk. He could make out a line of dark man-shaped figures standing on the rocks just above them, but one blurred shape seemed closer.

Then Morgan broke the awkward silence. “Penikett you asshole, I almost shot you this time.”

“Don’t do that, JD, we’re here to rescue your ass.” The man's voice was thick with sarcasm. He stepped closer, waving his men in.

“So, when did you spot us?”

“Oh, just a few minutes ago, enough to witness all the interesting bits, at least.”

“Fucker,” Morgan growled. There was no affection in his voice.

“Careful now, my opinion counts a lot with The Chemist. You should show more respect if you want to keep the things you value all in one piece,” Penikett replied, his tone placid, unlike his words. “He was getting worried you might have gotten yourself killed. You’ve been a long time in the field.”

Morgan rose to his feet, his hand balled into a fist. “You leave Tris out of it, you bastard, I did what he wanted as quickly as I could. It just didn’t quite go as planned, finding a live test subject. And then we ran into a herd.”

Jensen could make out Penikett's barely perceptible nod. “Yes, unfortunately we saw them shift direction and were tracking them on radar, three large herds all on the move at the same time. It’s impressive you managed to make it out of there in one piece — and with such a pretty package.” Penikett circled around Morgan, the blurry silhouette of what looked like an AK47 in his hands. “I’ll take that while you drop your weapons. You won’t need those where you’re going.”

He gathered Jensen’s leash from Morgan’s unresisting hands. The sharp pull on the collar forced Jensen to look up at his new captor. He worked hard to keep all emotion off his face as Penikett stared down at him before finally speaking, “Impressive.”

In his peripheral vision he could see Morgan clearly hesitating before reluctantly removing his gun from its holster, and carefully dropping it to the ground. “Yeah, I thought it might be touch and go for a while. We had to hole up in a tree for days while they passed. Even with the drug screening our presence, there were just so many of them, I consider it a minor miracle we weren’t detected.” The stack of weaponry grew as Morgan continued to add more guns and knives to the pile. “This, by the way, is test subject Ackles. Don’t be fooled by the cocksucker lips though, this one’s a fighter, a ZTM, from Green Zone.”

Penikett’s voice was thick with sarcasm, “You couldn’t have picked up a simple office boy? You had to get a combat trained killer.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed in confusion at the acknowledgement of his skills. Morgan had never seemed to notice or care, before now. He could sense the tension between the two men, it was so thick you could cut the air around them with a knife.

“He was the only one left alive on the plane by the time I got there.”

“Your orders were to be in position at the time of the crash, so you could have avoided all this, and had your pick of subjects.”

Jensen’s head swam at this new revelation. He’d simply assumed the crash had been caused by some latent Zeking out on the plane and taking them down, but if this had all been planned… that meant there was someone on the inside and this whole situation wasn’t some isolated crackpot in the Red Zone. Things had suddenly got darker and whole lot more dangerous.

“Well, tell Zeke that. They went off course and crashed in the middle of a level four herd. Whoever wasn’t killed in the crash was soon after. Only Green Eyes made it through in one piece.”

“Green Eyes, is it?” Penikett’s hand grabbed Jensen's chin and tipped his head up. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but the hand tightened threateningly on his jaw. Jensen blinked furiously, but couldn’t bring the new figure into focus. “The Chemist will like this one.”

“I’m keeping him.” Morgan voice sounded brittle.

Jensen’s eyebrows shot up, If his brain wasn't so fuzzy, Jensen might have registered his surprise ¬– so this is what it felt like to be a bone fought over by a couple of alpha dogs.

Penikett laughed dryly, “Like you have any kind of say in what goes on. You should be happy if you get your first package back in one piece before you try for another. Nice to see you followed protocol, though.”

“10 ml a day, as ordered. Good thing you came along, I was down to one shot.”

Jensen’s chin was abruptly released as Penikett yelled out, “Kilborne, are we clear?”

“Yes sir, no Zeke on the radar for over twenty klicks. We’re good to go.” A voice shouted out from higher up on the hill.

“All right, then.” Penikett nodded, tugging Jensen’s leash as he started up the hill. “Phillips, search him. If he had this much stashed you know he’s got a few more hidden somewhere. Then he’s your responsibility. Any sudden moves and you have my permission to shoot him. He’s served his purpose. Base is just over the rise, ten klicks or so. We should be able to make it in a couple of hours and get there before dark. Okay, let’s move out.”

“Can some of your men help Jensen?” Morgan’s voice was dangerously close to pleading. “The last few days the drug has been playing hell with his energy levels.”

Penikett stopped abruptly and glanced back at Jensen, “If he can’t make it on his own, we’ll shoot him and leave him where he falls. The Chemist has no use for weaklings in his study. Now move.”

 

The last leg of the journey was a painful blur for Jensen, relentlessly dragged behind Penikett, stumbling and falling, delirious with exhaustion. He vaguely remembered being allowed to sink to his knees on the cracked asphalt of a bridge that led into a tunnel on the side of a mountain. Then Penikett was on the radio signaling their arrival, and the bridge shuddered and groaned as a massive steel door swung open inside the tunnel's gloom. Penikett pulled on his collar, dragging him forward, choking and gasping. When they finally came to a halt inside the mountain fortress, Jensen was man enough to admit he was at his end. He could not go an inch further. He collapsed, exhausted, at Penikett’s feet.

Morgan rushed over. “Can’t you see he’s done? He can’t go any farther, you bastard.”

Penikett gazed down at Jensen, his voice pitiless. “Fortunately for him, he doesn’t need to go any further, Captain. We’re here and The Chemist is eager to see you.”

A deep, booming voice floated down from a walkway above them, “Penikett, Morgan, you’ve returned. So good, so good. And with our new test subject, I see. Excellent. Stand it up, let me see it. I want blood tests run and samples taken as soon as I’ve seen it. Penikett, warn the lab that we have a test subject on the way for processing.”

“Yes sir.” Penikett's voice was crisp, and he snapped his fingers before stepping aside, presumably to make arrangements for Jensen’s arrival. Two of his men pulled Jensen to his feet, holding him upright, swaying between them.

“Hmm, oh my, this _is_ a rather interesting surprise.” The man Jensen could only assume was The Chemist bobbed his face in close to Jensen’s. He could vaguely make out a grey beard and a glittering, dangerous smile. He pulled back in surprise, but two big hands held him in place. “Hmm, yes, yes, clouded pupils, indicating blurred vision. A good coating of protective pheromones to assure survival.” A large hand reached out to cup Jensen’s groin and he flinched at the sudden contact. “Curious, no reaction to stimulae,” The man’s dark head turned toward Morgan. “Has this been the case the whole time?”

“No sir, just the last few days, along with increased exhaustion with every new dose. We barely made it here, sir.”

“Yes, we’re aware, we had a scout watching you nearly the whole time, he lost you when the herd arrived.” The Chemist turned to Penikett, “Did everything else check out?”

“So far,” Penikett shrugged, “He’s down to one ampule and the plane was over-run. He was only off the grid for three days in the middle of the herd, I don’t think he could have pulled much during that time. Only thing that seems unusual is the exhaustion in the test subject, he’s not faking that.”

“Hmm, that’s somewhat alarming. I had expected this strain to perform better in the field than this.” The Chemist said, tugging thoughtfully on his beard. “That won’t do, no, that simply won’t do. We’ll need to run tests, of course, but he could have an increased immunity to the drug. Or possibly, the mix I provided was unstable.” Turning toward Morgan, in a louder voice The Chemist said, “I must say these are disappointing results, Morgan. You may have to go out again and collect another sample.”

“But you said, I get you one and Tris and I go free. That was the deal.”

“Oh, yes that’s right, I’m a man of my word, you can take your partner now, as you wish. I won’t stop you, but you may find your Tris a bit changed by the time spent with me. Of course, if you want everything back the way it was when we first rescued the two of you, well then that would be another deal, now wouldn’t it? And you strike me as a man who’s always open to renegotiation, aren’t you?”

“You bastard! What have you done? I’ll kill you if you’ve hurt my partner.”

Morgan’s blurry form charged toward The Chemist, almost reaching him before Penikett’s men tackled him to the ground.

“What would you like us to do with him sir?” Penikett asked, his tone disapproving.

“Move him to the cages for now until I decide what to do with him.” The Chemist looked at Morgan pensively, “Put him in with 0968. Let’s let them have some fun together, shall we? Oh, and you can remove 0968’s bridle, I don’t think Morgan will be bitten, or at least not in a way that will ruin the test results.”

“You heard the boss, move him out,” Penikett ordered, smoothly taking over.

Penikett’s men sniggered as they hauled Morgan away, kicking and screaming. The Chemist returned his attention to Jensen, peering at him, avidly poking and prodding at his body.

“And who the fuck are you?” Jensen managed to choke out.

“Why Jensen, don’t you recognize me?” Then The Chemist chuckled, “Oh, that’s right, you’re not seeing all that clearly right now are you? I’ve fixed that unfortunate side effect with my new series of shots. Well, just so you know it’s Commander Timothy Omundson, lately of the ZTM, Green Zone Weapons Division, known around these parts as The Chemist. Don’t you remember me? Because I vividly remember you, especially the part where you turned me down for my latest study.” Omundson moved closer, his fingers walking up the center of Jensen’s chest to slide along his collarbone.

Jensen blinked, aghast. Omundson was The Chemist? Omundson was insane. He’d not only taken the ZTM Weapons Division down a rabbit hole of Geneva Convention violations, he’d left under a cloud of controversy, disappearing from the Green Zone in the dead of night with a huge amount of equipment and copies of almost all their most top secret data on Zeke, as well as his own research. Everyone had wondered what city state he’d pop up in next. There was always a market for a scientist peddling a cure for the RΩAR outbreak, and states desperate enough to do anything to have that cure. When no one had heard from him in months, they all breathed a sign of relief. When those months turned into years, everyone assumed Zeke had taken care of their problem.

Instead he was standing here in front of Jensen with a grudge dating back to when Jensen was a young lieutenant.

His whole unit had been asked to report to the weapons division to listen to a presentation given by Omundson about his latest Zeke fighting idea. The presentation had scared and disgusted everyone present. It involved being implanted with some kind of extract harvested from Zeke. The idea was to create a soldier immune to Zeke’s bite. Jensen wasn't even sure how you could extract something from a Zeke that didn’t instantly turn you, but he could tell from the looks on all the other members of his squad that no one was the least bit interested in volunteering, anyway.

After the video, several members of his unit were asked to go to a private interview. Sitting there in the small room with Omundson’s blue eyes burning into him with fanatical zeal, Jensen had wondered how Omundson even kept his program running. The man was a serious freak. Who in their right mind would sign up for this? His gut had twisted with sudden suspicion. There were always rumors in the Zone of young men and women being snatched off the streets; Omundson seemed both insane and ambitious enough to resort to kidnapping.

Of course, Jensen had turned Omundson down when the scientist had tried to convince him to sign on. Even when the man started to make him another kind of offer, Jensen had declined as diplomatically as he could and turned to go. It was only when Omundson had grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back against him, pleading for him to reconsider, that he was the perfect test subject, all the while rubbing himself lasciviously up against Jensen’s ass, that Jensen had momentarily lost control. He grabbed one of the man’s hands, and twisting him around, had punched the scientist in the face. He didn’t remember much after that, except telling Omundson in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t fuck him even if he were the last man left in the world.

 

Jensen swallowed hard. Omundson’s fingers had continued to travel along his body as he circled him. When the man came to a stop, he slid his hand lightly down Jensen’s back and grabbed one of Jensen’s ass cheeks firmly. “Yes, I remember you very well. It’s going to be my pleasure having you here with me. Yes, my pleasure completely.”

The Chemist turned toward Penikett, “I’ve changed my mind. After he's been decontaminated and cleaned, and all the tests have been run on him, I want him fitted with a shock collar and delivered to my stateroom. We have a lot of catching up to do, Jensen, and I.”

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Comments Always Appreciated No Matter When You Read This ^^ 


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